


you make me catch my breath (it's you, it's always been you)

by sleepyshamrocks



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/F, character + friendship studies, hope and penelope are the superior brotp, off canon post 1x06, slow burn i guess, we don't deserve the girls in legacies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2019-10-12 23:51:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17477312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyshamrocks/pseuds/sleepyshamrocks
Summary: “That bow choker you’re using is super cute. Looks familiar, too,” Penelope grins. She sees Lizzie shoot a questioning look at her sister, which goes blatantly ignored. Josie can’t exactly say that they’ve used that very choker as makeshift handcuffs before, can she?Josie takes a deep breath. “I’ve worn it many times before, Penelope,” she replies without turning around, but Penelope sees the clenched fists by her lap.“Hmm, you certainly have.”Penelope, Hope, and Lizzie team up to protect Josie from a secret. Unexpected friendships develop along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> we're going ✈ missing posie hours

“I hate you.”

Penelope stares at the ceiling of her room, memories of last night flashing through her mind non-stop like an intrusive Powerpoint Presentation. Her decision to call out to Josie, even though a part of her mind knew it wasn’t the right time to be having that conversation, or any at all. Her defensiveness when Josie blamed her for being buried alive, as if Penelope had ever intended to place her in danger like that. And the kiss. The way her heart had sunk when Josie pulled away, stared dead into her eyes and said those three words; and then the way it leaped in elation when Josie grabbed the back of her neck and crashed their lips together. The way it hurt to watch her leave again at Lizzie’s call.

What do you do when you love someone so much it feels as if your heart will spill over? And then what do you do if that someone wants nothing to do with you anymore?

It’s times like these when Penelope’s carefully crafted exterior persona comes to bite her back. The indifferent, you’re-lucky-to-be-friends-with-me vibe she exerts daily around her posse means that none of her so-called friends really knew the real her, the one hiding behind the wall of sarcastic remarks and precise one-liners who just needs a real friend.

Talking to Lizzie is out of the question if they want the school to stay intact long enough to watch cute Pedro and the other kids grow up. Talking to MG is...possible, but complicated. His infatuation with Regina George’s clone and history with said clone’s twin would put him in a difficult position, and Penelope isn’t nearly as mean enough to force him to pick a side.

That leaves only a single alternative: Hope Mikaelson, the only person in this school who doesn’t give a shit about her and therefore won’t bother to coddle her with pretty words and nice sentiments. Penelope thinks that there are only two things running through Hope’s mind at any given time, and that is 1) avoid unnecessary contact with irrelevant people, whether visual, verbal, or auditory, and 2) I wish my dead, evil-but-not-to-me father would tell me whether he died loving or hating me and if he did love me, why did he accept his death so easily. Or some variation of that.

That’s it. There’s no use in brooding alone in her room when she can brood with someone else instead. Penelope nods once to assure herself that she’s not making a mistake that might blow up in her face, and heads to the room five doors down.

 _Knock, knock, knock._ Footsteps grow closer to the door.

“You’d better have a good reason for botheri – Penelope? What are you doing here?”

Penelope meets Hope’s bewildered and slightly irritated eyes and takes a deep breath, forces out a, “can I talk to you?”

“Oh, um. Sure, what about?” Hope is apparently startled enough by Penelope’s presence to open the door wider and let her in. Her ratty “I LOVE NEW ORLEANS” t-shirt indicates that the girl was about to go to sleep, and Penelope mentally reminds herself to not to stay to long.

Penelope, being Penelope, immediately sits down on Hope’s bed and ignores the other girl’s questioning stare. “It’s, uh, it’s about Josie.”

“Oh. _Oh._ ”

Hope closes the door and walks slowly towards the bed, trying not to add to Penelope’s anxiety. Penelope would tease her for being so soft if she wasn’t about to break down any second herself.

“Last night, after we literally rescued Josie from her early grave, she and I talked a little and then we kind of argued andthenikissedher.”

Hope abandons her initial attempts at being hospitable and bounces on the bed next to Penelope. “You what? Speak up, would you?”

“You’re not making this any easier.” Penelope shoots a glare at Hope, who just shrugs.

“I kissed her. And then she told me that she hated me. And then she kissed me back.”

“Seriously? Why? Did you do that to mess with her?”

“What? No, I’d never do that, it’s just –,”

“It’s just what?” Hope’s tone grows serious. “Look, Penelope, Josie’s my friend, and you’re, like, kind of too, maybe, I guess,” — “gee, thanks” — “but you both need to get your shit together. You broke up with her, and you know she’s still hurt, so why do you go around teasing her and taking shots at Lizzie whenever she’s around? It’s not fair to her. And I don’t get why Josie never does anything about it, either! It’s like, I don’t know, maybe you guys are still hung up on each other?”

Penelope stares. Opens her mouth, then closes it. Her mind is reeling, partly because of Hope’s sudden exposition, and partly because she’s thinking of whether it’s wise to tell Hope what’s been plaguing her mind since before the break-up.

The knowledge has been eating at her for months now, and it consumed her to a point where she couldn’t stand looking at Josie’s pretty, unaware face and knowing that a terrible future lies ahead.

Penelope turns and leans conspiratorially towards Hope, who immediately leans back in surprise. “Hope, I’m about to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone about it. Not Josie, not even Professor Saltzman, okay?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever. Stop being weird about it.”

“Okay.” Penelope takes a deep breath and begins to explain. “You know how the twins usually take the day off whenever their mom comes to visit and, like, go to the mall or something and hang out together? Well, four months ago Josie was seriously excited for it because the last time she met her mom was before we dated, and she told me that she wanted to tell her mom about us. And then she cancelled.”

Hope nods, remembering. “Yeah, Lizzie had a freak-out in the kitchen that day.”

“Josie was really upset, too. I went to ask her about it, but she just shut down and went to take care of Lizzie. I - I wanted to do something to cheer her up, so I went to the library to find something about her coven. Josie always complained that she barely knew anything about them, so I thought that it would remind her of her other family.”

“Her coven...the Geminis? They died out years ago.”

“Yeah, there was no one from the coven who I could actually ask, so I thought that if I could find a book about them, Josie could read all about it and she’ll forget about her mom cancelling. Again.”

“Go on.” Hope seems to be getting real interested now that the topic’s veered into witchcraft. Penelope suppresses the urge to roll her eyes.

“Shut up. Anyway, I searched the whole library and there was nothing about them. No tales, family trees, lores, anything. There were, like, twenty books about my own coven and nothing about hers. I mean, Saltzman’s wife was part of the coven, so it should’ve been weird for him to not notice there were no records about them.”

“That _is_ weird. What did you do next?”

“I broke into Dorian’s office and found a supernatural registry, and then I –,”

“Whoa, stop,” Hope interrupts, intrigued. “A supernatural registry? What the hell is that?”

“What does it sound like, dumbass?” Penelope scoffs, and Hope sends her a deadpan stare. “None of his cabinet drawers were locked except the one on the bottom right, so I used the unlocking spell on it. Inside, there was this big book with a leather cover, and I remember the title was in Latin. I’ll never admit that I suck at Latin outside this room but I actually do so I didn’t understand the words. Anyway, it was sort of like a telephone book, but instead of surnames there were records of clans and packs and covens from all over the country.”

Hope has a conflicted expression on her face, as if she knew that whatever Penelope is about to say next isn’t going to be pleasant. “Go on,” she says warily.

“Someone must’ve updated all of it because there were English translations, and the Gemini coven…” Penelope bites her lips, darting her eyes away. She remembers the confusion, the disbelief, and then the sheer anger. The unfairness of it all, how Lizzie and Josie were doomed to fight a war they shouldn’t have to face. Her heart drops the same way it did four months ago when she snuck into Dorian’s office.

“What is it? What did it say?” Hope asks urgently. She moves closer and lays a hand on the Penelope’s shoulder. “Penelope, tell me.”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure because the text was so dense and I was panicking, but there was a passage about a ritual called ‘The Merge’, and it described how the coven chooses their leaders.” Penelope shuts her eyes. “Something about twins, one being stronger than the other, absorbing powers...God, it’s so confusing!”

“Dude, focus. What are you implying?”

“Lizzie and Josie, they’re next in line to lead the coven, right? And they’re twins. They’ll have to do this merge thing and whoever’s stronger gets to siphon the other’s magic.”

Hope’s eyes widen in shock. “All of it? Wouldn’t that kill them?”

“I don’t know. I only got bits and pieces because there wasn’t enough time to read everything, but I explicitly remember the part where they’d have to fight each other. I don’t know what’ll happen to the one who loses, but I know that it’s bad.” Penelope’s voice breaks at the last word, and Hope winces.

“If what you’re saying is true...but there’s no way Lizzie and Josie would ever hurt each other like that, right? They’re twins, they’d do anything for each other.”

“That’s the thing! You know as well as I do that Josie would do anything for Lizzie. She’d sacrifice herself in a heartbeat, and that scares me,” Penelope finishes. A heavy silence settles between them, and she feels as if the air itself was intruding on the secret.

“That’s why you broke up with her,” Hope says quietly. “Isn’t it? You were scared for her, for what Josie’s selflessness might mean when it comes to her sister.”

Penelope sighs. “Yeah. At first it just a little annoying that she would drop everything at Lizzie’s call, but after I found out about this whole mess, I just – I was scared, Hope. I am scared. One part of Josie solely revolves around Lizzie, and the other part is dedicated to shouldering other people’s problems, especially her dad’s. Then what’s left for her?”

“Whoa.” Hope holds out both hands. “Okay, before you spiral further into the rabbit hole in your mind, are you absolutely sure that they both don’t know about this? What if Saltzman already told them and it’s just not a problem anymore? What if you’re worrying for nothing?”

“Think about it. There’s almost zero information on the history of their coven, as if someone’s trying to hide what happened to them. Their mom is always gone doing what, exactly? What’s important enough that it warranted missing their sixteenth birthday? The only thing I can think of is that she was too busy finding a solution for her daughters’ future. And don’t you find it weird that the Gemini coven has never been brought up in any of our classes despite being the only coven to sire siphoners? Something’s being fucking covered up here.”

Penelope rakes her hair in frustration, her heart racing from the sudden outburst. If she weren’t so preoccupied with chasing the trail of her thoughts to its end, she would’ve realized just how worked up she is over the whole thing. Hope, on the other hand, quickly picks up on her agitation.

“Look, this is a lot to process for tonight. It’s late, why don’t you go back to your room and we, I don’t know, we’ll talk about this tomorrow. I know that it’s important to you, and it is to me as well, but we can’t change anything by tonight, so it’s best if we both go to sleep and think it over tomorrow. Sounds good?”

Penelope manages a smirk. “You’re kicking me out of your room? The last time my ego took a blow like that was in middle school.”

“Ugh, for a second there I thought I’d have to rub circles on your back and tell you that everything’s going to be fine, but thankfully you’re still the same Penelope Park I know.” Hope nudges Penelope off the bed with her foot.

“Ouch. Rude. The aggressiveness of a werewolf and the cold heart of a vampire. Very fitting, Mikaelson.”

“Get _out_ , asshole. I’m starting to reconsider letting you be here.”

“Fine, jeez, I’m going.” Penelope looks over her shoulder to Hope with a pillow over one ear just before closing the door. “Although if you were wondering, I’m totally digging your whole Wattpad loner girl thing going on. Ugh, if only I was still in middle school.”

“One, two, –,”

“I’m just saying!” 

 

* * *

 

“Morning, witches.”

Twin glares are shot at her, and Penelope smirks, self-satisfied, as she takes a seat on the desk right behind them. Josie and Lizzie may be fraternal, but there’s no doubt that the two are related by the identical expressions on their faces. Well, almost identical. Lizzie’s is definitely much more loathing.

“Mind taking a seat somewhere else? Not really in a mood to have my soul sucked by a dementor today.”

Penelope scoffs at the insult. “You’re one to talk about demons. Did you _plan_ on roleplaying James Charles this morning or were you just incapable of contouring?”

The blonde scowls, but before she can reply, Josie puts a hand to turn her sister away. “Lizzie, come on, just ignore her.”

“That bow choker you’re using is super cute. Looks familiar, too,” Penelope grins. She sees Lizzie shoot a questioning look at her sister, which goes blatantly ignored. Josie can’t exactly say that they’ve used that very choker as makeshift handcuffs before, can she?

Josie takes a deep breath. “I’ve worn it many times before, Penelope,” she replies without turning around, but Penelope sees the clenched fists by her lap.

“Hmm, you certainly have.”

The door opens, and Dorian walks into class with a hurried “sorry I’m late, guys”, dumping his briefcase on his desk. Penelope decides to let the girl breathe. For now.

“Alright, as you guys have surely heard, Professor Saltzman has allowed offensive spells to be integrated in the practical curriculum. Now, since this is only our first lesson, we’ll start off with a low-level incapacitation spell. Grab a partner and repeat the words that I’m about to write on the board.”

Penelope narrows her eyes in observation. Lizzie has sauntered off to MG’s side, no doubt to his delight, leaving Josie alone right in front of her.

Josie, for her sake, seems to be perfectly aware of the situation, because before Penelope can even open her mouth and ask her to be her partner, the girl calls out to Rafael, who’s sitting a few chairs away. “Raf! Wanna partner up?”

The werewolf casts a side glance behind Josie and meets Penelope’s unrelenting glare. “Umm, sure, I guess.” He says a little unsurely, but moves to approach them.

It’s annoying and clearly an avoidance tactic, but Penelope suppresses the urge to tease her ex again, mostly because it’s not worth it to be mean when Lizzie’s not around to receive it. She’s not going to lie that being dismissed so easily like that doesn’t sting a little, but chooses to keep quiet and scans the room for a potential partner. Her eyes fall on a familiar redhead who’s staring right back at her.

“Seems like we’ve been spending a lot of time together, huh?” Hope says dryly as Penelope drags back the chair beside her. A silent agreement to keep quiet about what they talked about last night passes between them.

“You know, we’re not so different, you and I. I think we’d actually make a good power couple. Platonically, of course. Redheads aren’t really my type,” Penelope drawls, genuinely grinning at their banter. The thought of being friends with Hope Mikaelson has never crossed her mind before, but she supposes that being forced to battle zombies side-by-side bonds people together in a strange way.

“So you come crying to me once and we’re friends now? Didn’t know it was this easy to get into Penelope Park’s coveted inner circle.”

“For the record, I wasn’t _crying_ , my eyes were just...misty. There’s a difference, you know.”

Hope performs yet another of her trademark eye roll. “Whatever. Let’s get on with the spell. I wonder how damaging this one is if we’re allowed to use it on each other.”

As if on cue, MG lets out a loud groan from the other side of the room. The two turn to see him massaging his temples through a bout of pain while Lizzie stands before him with a slightly concerned expression. “So she _is_ capable of having sympathetic emotions. Who knew,” Hope comments, which gets a grunt of agreement from Penelope.

Out of the corner of her eye, as if guided by some mysterious force, Penelope spots Josie and Rafael near the chalkboard, hands outstretched to allow Josie’s siphoning powers to activate. The soft red glow emanating from their joined hands tugs at a string buried deep within Penelope’s heart. She used to be the one Josie always siphoned from, and given their former relationship, the action had felt intimate, as if they were sharing the same breath as raw power moved between their skin.

It’s one of the many, many things on the long list of why she misses their time together.

Hope snaps her out of it. “When you’re done staring at your ex, I’d like to get back on our task here, thank you very much.”

“If you’re so eager to do it, then you start. Hit me.”

Hope moves backwards to make space between them and adopts an offensive stance. She flicks her right wrist backwards and then quickly forwards and recites the incantation. “ _Phesmatos superos capitis_.”

Immediately, a wave of dull pain crashes into Penelope’s head, and she winces, shutting her eyes in an attempt to focus and fight the spell off. She shouldn’t have bothered, for the spell anticlimactically wears off after a few seconds.

“What the hell? I’ve had PMS headaches ten times more painful than that,” she complains, disgusted at the lack of actual offense of the offensive spell. “Is this seriously what Saltzman meant by allowing us to learn offensive spells? What, am I supposed to knock out a vampire with a puny, three-second headache?”

Hope gives her a conspiratorial look. “Wanna make this more interesting?”

“Huh?”

“ _Phesmatos superos dolor capitis_!”

The pain that shoots into Penelope’s head returns with a vengeance, and it feels as if someone is using the back of her skull as a batting target. Her knees wobble and she’s about to topple over if it isn’t for Hope’s steady hand on her arm.

“Shit, Mikaelson,” Penelope hisses through gritted teeth. “Is this revenge for wasting your time last night? I didn’t know you were this vengeful.”

“Keep talking and I’ll leave you like this until class ends.”

“Ugh, just lift it already,” she groans, the pain spreading to her temples now. “I swear to god I’ll come bother you every night from now on.”

“Alright, alright. Just stay still.” Penelope sees Hope raising her arms through half-lidded eyes and stumbles backwards a little. “At least we know the spell works – hey, watch out!”

The two have unknowingly moved near Penelope’s original seat in the middle of the class, and Penelope’s eyes widen as her foot catches on the leg of a chair and crashes into a desk, sending papers flying everywhere.

Hope waves her hands hurriedly to lift the spell and whispers, “Shit, it’s Lizzie’s…”

“NOT TODAY, SATAN.”

The whole class goes silent as Lizzie Saltzman, channeling all her Lizzie Saltzman wrath, stomps towards the two witches and jabs a finger at Penelope’s chest. “If this is your idea of sabotage, then I won’t hesitate to hex your eyebrows off right now.”

Penelope raises an eyebrow. “Sabotage? Lizzie, I accidentally knocked your stuff off the desk. I can pick them up in, like, twenty seconds.”

“Uh, yeah. Obviously so you could burn my notes and have me fail this class, which would get me in trouble with my dad. As if he isn’t already disappointed in me enough.” Lizzie scoffs and stares at her rival dead in the eyes, taking a nearer step. “I see through that black hole you call a soul. Your happiness is derived from making me suffer. Admit it, she-demon.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that right?”

Hope silently takes a step sideways to avoid what seems to be the beginnings of a physical throwdown, if the sharp glares are any indication. Lizzie looks as if she’s ready to throw hands at Penelope until Josie appears out of nowhere and interjects the situation.

“Lizzie, calm down. It’s not a serious problem.”

“Oh, so you’re taking her side now?” Lizzie snaps. “Nice to know you’ve got my back, _Josette_.”

“I - I didn’t mean it like that…” The whole class is definitely staring now, including Dorian, who looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else but there. Josie shrinks from the attention, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Penelope.

“Are you seriously going to bully your own sister because she told you to calm down?” She demands, but her eyes never leave Josie. Josie’s staring at her back, wide-eyed, hesitating.

The bell rings out of nowhere, making everyone jump in surprise and drowning out Lizzie’s scathing response.

“Alright class,” Dorian shouts over the scuffle of twenty students trying to leave at the same time. “I’ll see you next week with your Magical History essay ready and proofread by my desk,” he says, and proceeds to narrow his eyes at two particular witches. “Miss Mikaelson, Miss Park, since you were so keen on modifying spells earlier, I’m sure you’ll be just as eager setting the classroom back to its original position.”

Hope exhales in frustration and glances at her partner. Penelope’s still looking at Josie, but her eyes are softer now, almost comforting. “Josie, I –,”

“Come on, Jose,” Lizzie interrupts. “Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber here have a job to do.”

The twins leave, albeit one more reluctantly than the other, and the last students start trickling out as well, leaving Penelope and Hope alone surrounded by overturned chairs and desks pushed against the wall, the usual state of the classroom after a practical class.

Penelope starts dragging the desks back in place, the screech of wood against tile filling the classroom. Hope breaks the silence.

“Just us two again, huh?”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Listen,” the redhead says carefully, “I’ve been thinking about what you told me last night.”

Penelope’s eyes snap up. “Yeah?”

“Saltzman’s going out tonight to figure out whatever’s going on with the dagger, and I think Dorian’s coming with him. I overheard them talking in his office this morning.”

“And…?”

“ _And?_ Penelope, we can use this chance to break into Dorian’s office and see the registry for ourselves, confirm what you thought you saw. You’ve never thought about doing this again since the first time?”

“Risking my life once was enough. I didn’t want to do it a second time.”

“Okay, but this time, there will be two of us. I can stand guard while you find the book, minimize the chances of getting caught,” Hope explains enthusiastically. As much enthusiasm Hope can physically express, anyway, which is only characterized by a slightly higher voice and widening eyes.

Penelope regards her suspiciously. “Why are you so excited to break into a teacher’s office? I thought you liked being the teacher’s pet.” That earns her a punch in the arm.

“Look, I just know how it feels like to have your family history hidden from you. When that happens, it almost always means something bad is being covered up. Besides, don’t you want to do it for the twins?”

“I’m doing this for Josie,” Penelope reminds her.

“It’s just as unfair to Lizzie and you know it.”

A groan. “Fine.”

“I’ll meet you tonight?”

“Tonight.”

Neither girl notices Lizzie eavesdropping right by the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> penelope and josie talk a little. the squad begins to assemble.

“ _Meet me in the library an hour after curfew. Try not to get caught._ ”

Penelope paces back and forth as she sneaks glances at the alarm clock on her dresser. Curfew started forty-five minutes ago, which means that all the teachers and students should already be in their rooms. It’s a school day, so there’s little to no chance that some of the older kids would be sneaking out to the old mill to go party like they usually do on weekends. And there’s a very high chance that if a teacher did catch her, they won’t be so lenient.

 _Okay_ , Penelope thinks to herself. _It’s time_.

Opening and closing the door as quietly as possible, she silently slips out of her room and treads down the hall, mindful of her footsteps. Hope’s room is in a different dorm section, so they agreed to directly meet in the library to avoid wasting time. Which, now that she thinks about it, is just doubling the risk of getting caught.

Well, there’s no turning back now.

Penelope trudges by the corner of the hall and stops in her tracks. She stifles a gasp, heart racing a hundred miles an hour, because walking towards her, with her head down and tugging on her sleep shorts, is Josie Saltzman.

Shit. Penelope doesn’t know whether it’s better to greet her ex or to just stay still and pray that Josie won’t notice her. She’s about to opt for the latter when Josie’s head snaps up and meets her eyes, hand hovering on the doorknob of her own room.

“Pen?” Josie blurts, startled. The nickname causes Penelope’s heart to skip a beat. She’s seriously half a mind away to just zoom past her ex and avoid this entire interaction. Instead she stays there and plays with her hands.

“Hey, Jojo,” she answers nervously.

“What are you doing out here? It’s past curfew.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just…” _Think fast._ “...heading to the kitchen. I’m dying for some Oreos right now.”

Josie’s frown deepens. “The kitchen is that way,” she says slowly, nodding her head once to the direction Penelope came from. “You’re sneaking out, aren’t you?”

Penelope resists the physical urge to facepalm. “I’m not. And what about you? You’re out here too.” She tries for an accusatory tone, but the words come out softer than she expected.

“I was coming back from the bathroom,” Josie says, crossing her arms. “What’s your excuse, huh? And don’t give me that kitchen bullshit, I know when you’re lying.”

“Yeah?” Penelope challenges, taking a step closer. “And why would it matter if I am?”

“It doesn’t. It matters that you’re breaking curfew to do something that’s probably against the rules.”

“What, are you going to report me? It seems a little childish to report someone being out of their room after _curfew_ , isn’t it?”

“It’s not about the curfew!” Josie bursts, whisper-shouting. “I thought we were at least civil enough to be able to hold a conversation without going after each other’s throats, but I guess you’re still dead set on being cruel for no absolute reason.” They’re almost face to face now, both breathing heavily from pent-up emotions. Penelope can see the the shadows cast by Josie’s eyelashes on her cheeks, the dim lighting shrouding them from the night.

She clenches her jaw, a spark of annoyance flaring in her chest. “You say we’re having a conversation, but this feels more like an interrogation to me.” _There’s no time for this._

“It’s not,” Josie insists. “I just don’t understand why you won’t tell me the truth.”

 _We don’t owe each other that anymore_ , Penelope wants to say. _I can’t tell you the truth, or else your life will fall apart. Please just let it go._

Instead, she forces her voice to turn cold. “I’m surprised that you still don’t get it. Sneaking out late at night is exactly the thing you used to do all the time, isn’t it?”

She almost regrets the words when she sees understanding dawn on Josie’s face, but bites her tongue. It’s a low blow, bringing up the time when Josie would sneak out to Penelope’s room after Lizzie fell asleep and they’d stay up all night exploring each other’s bodies, Penelope breathing hot breaths on Josie’s neck and mapping her skin with her hands. She’d wake up in the morning with an arm over Josie’s waist and revel in their little pocket of warmth underneath the thick blankets.

Those nights are over now.

Josie’s eyes harden, and it’s clear she knows exactly what’s being implied. “Then I hope you have fun tonight,” she bites, opening the door with more force than necessary. She takes one last look at Penelope. “Do whatever you want, see if I care.”

Through the door, Penelope hears Lizzie’s faint voice asking, “What happened?”

She takes a deep breath, steels herself, and leaves before she can hear Josie’s answer.

 

* * *

 

 

“What took you so long?” Hope hisses when Penelope finally reaches the library entrance, mumbling out a half-baked apology. “I was starting to freak out.”

“Aww, is Hope Mikaelson worried about me?” Penelope teases, the lump in her throat already receding.

Hope scoffs. “This place gets scary after dark, especially if you’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes for someone who can’t keep track of time.”

“Sorryyy.”

“Whatever, let’s just go in.”

They walk past the study tables and climb up the large stairs to the left balcony, where Dorian’s office stands. Hope breaks the silence first. “What possessed you to do this in the first place, anyway? Why did it even occur to you to break into his office?”

“It seemed reasonable! He’s a walking encyclopedia and his office was _right there_ and no one was around because of the werewolves’ basketball game so why not?” Penelope feels the other’s girl’s eyes boring into her. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.”

She wants to press on, but Hope is already performing an unlocking spell on the door. They get in easily, and Penelope heads straight for the wooden cabinet attached to the worktable while Hope stands guard.

Immediately, she sees a huge problem. “Shit.”

“What?” Hope whispers, coming around the table. She curses right after.

The drawer, which Penelope vividly remembers to only have a keyhole, is clamped shut to the frame by an electronic lock with a numeric keypad, making it impossible to pull open. It also means that they won’t be able to cast an unlocking spell too, since witch magic doesn’t work on anything digital. They have to resort to either brute force or guessing the passcode.

Penelope squints her eyes and leans closer to the little screen. “There’s four spaces, so we have to guess that many numbers to open this thing.”

“Try 1234?” Hope suggests hopefully.

_WRONG CODE (2/3)_

Penelope turns and shoot her a side-eye glare. “Thanks a lot, genius.”

“You’re the one who punched it in!”

“We have two chances left. What combination would a witch librarian use as a passcode?”

“Try the month and year this school was built. Zero five one nine.”

_WRONG CODE (1/3)_

Penelope shoots up, wringing her hands. “Okay, we have to be really, really careful. Think of what would be important to Dorian; there must be some type of clue in this office.”

“You’re right,” Hope affirms. “You look around here, I’ll go out and take a round in the library.”

Penelope watches as Hope steps out the room and shivers, tries not to think about creatures hiding in the dark. The place is so quiet, save for Hope’s footsteps descending down the stairs, and it’s these types of deafening silences which has always managed to spark a tinge of fear in her.

She turns over papers, books, and logs scattered on the desk, skims by the tall bookshelf containing spellbooks and textbooks, checks every unopened drawer, even braves herself to look past the disgusting paraphernalia of fingernails and locks of hair and other body parts sealed in glass jars. Penelope’s not really sure what she expected to find in the first place, but the lack of answers leaves her disappointed.

“Hope?” she calls out in a whisper, leaning against the balcony. “Found anything yet?”

“I can’t find anything that explicitly points us to a four-number code,” Hope says, craning her neck

“Me too. I swear, if it’s something like Dorian’s sister’s cat’s birthday, we’re done for.”

Hope looks confused. “Dorian doesn’t have a sister.”

“I just made it up to be dramatic,” Penelope retorts. “I’m just saying, if it’s something totally trivial then this is going to be – Hope?”

Hope isn’t even looking at her. She’s staring far off into the distance, lost in thought. “Sister…,” she murmurs.

No, she’s not staring into the distance. She’s staring into a plaque, nailed proudly into the wall by the entrance of the library. A plaque with the name ‘STEFAN SALVATORE’ carved into the stone.

Something starts to click in Penelope’s mind, and Hope’s hesitation suddenly makes sense. “Didn’t something happen to Dorian’s family?” she says slowly. “Something bad enough that he takes the whole day off during Remembrance Day?”

“Yeah.” Hope finally looks at her, wide eyes mirroring her own’s. “His dad and younger sister were slaughtered by a ripper, a vampire consumed by bloodlust. A ripper who turned out to be celebrated as a hero in Mystic Falls. Alaric told me this story when we were chasing after one in the forest last year.”

“When did it happen?”

Hope throws her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know, he never mentioned when. It just came up briefly, we were in the middle of chasing after a grown vampire.”

“We’re never going to get it at this rate,” Penelope groans, deflating. “It’s not like we can ask Dorian when his family was murdered, and if we ask Professor Saltzman, he’ll know something’s up. We’ll have to do our own research and that’s probably gonna take _days_ –,”

“Someone’s coming,” Hope interrupts in a terse whisper.

“What?!”

“Shit, I hear footsteps.” Hope slowly retreats up the staircase, trying to make as little noise as possible. Penelope stays still, training her eyes at the library entrance. There’s no way Hope can reach her quickly enough for them to hide in Dorian’s office, and in the off-chance that the incoming person _is_ Dorian…they’re done for.

Their eyes meet, and a silent agreement passes between them. _We have to face whoever it is and hopefully talk our way out of this_.

The door creaks open, and Penelope sees the faint shadow of a person step into the room.

“Lizzie?” Hope blurts incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

Lizzie, who obviously planned to sneak in quietly without alerting whoever she was spying on, takes a startled step backwards. She takes one look at Hope perched on the staircase looking like a deer in the headlights and Penelope peering down at her from the balcony. “What’s going on here?” Lizzie demands. She straightens her back in an attempt to look commanding, which Penelope rolls her eyes at. “I know you two are up to something illegal.”

“Chill, Elle Woods. How’d you know we were here?”

“I overheard you guys talking in class earlier today, and half an hour ago I overheard you and Josie fighting outside my room,” Lizzie says, glaring at Penelope. “Dick move, by the way. She came in all upset and wouldn’t talk to me until she fell asleep.”

“It seems like overhearing should be your real superpower, Saltzman,” Penelope says dryly, pretending to ignore the last part. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Listen, you Bratz factory defect. You guys better tell me what you’re doing here _right now_ or I’ll –,”

“Run crying to daddy? Stomp your foot twice and have a tantrum?” _Have another one of your episodes?_ Penelope bites her tongue. No matter how much she despises the other girl, she won’t ever stoop as low as to mock someone’s mental illness.

“Guys, knock it out. Someone might hear us and then we’ll all get in trouble,” Hope begs.

“We? I’m just here to bust you two, which I’ll do right now if you don’t tell me what you’re doing.”

Penelope swallows, sharing a quick glance with Hope. They can’t tell Lizzie that they’re here to steal a supernatural registry that apparently exists and confirm whether the Gemini Coven requires twins to fight each other for dominance in order to take over the leadership. Certainly not to the person who the book is specifically talking about.

“Lizzie, do you know what happened to Dorian’s family?” Hope questions out of the blue. Lizzie looks taken aback from the question. “His dad and younger sister were killed by Stefan Salvatore, right? Do you know when that happened?”

Lizzie eyes them warily and says, “If I remember correctly, it was around June 2010, eighteen years ago. My dad had a fight with Dorian over who the library was going to be named after when the school opened, and Josie and I asked about it after. Why do you need to know this?”

Penelope is already rushing back to the cabinet, blood rushing in her ears as she lifts her fingers to tap in the code. _Zero six one zero_. Faintly, she hears Hope approaching her and Lizzie yelling a, “Hey!”

There’s a click, and the lock snaps open. She holds her breath and moves to pull the drawer open…

“It’s empty,” Hope murmurs, stunned. There’s nothing there, not even a scattered sheet of paper. Penelope feels disappointment and confusion blooming in her chest, and she wants to lash out for the wasted effort.

“Did you break into Dorian’s office?!”

Penelope starts pacing across the room. “He must’ve known that someone broke in, that’s why he changed the lock to an electronic one. He probably knew I was going to come back after reading it.”

“Why are you looking at an empty drawer?”

Hope nods in agreement. “Okay, at least this confirms that the book is, like, super important, or else he wouldn’t bother securing it like this. But where is it now?”

“Are you robbing the librarian?!”

“I’d guess that he moved it to prevent someone else from reading, because last time I checked, that thing was right here. The only other place where something of that importance could be hidden is…”

“Professor Saltzman’s office,” Penelope and Hope say at the same time.

“I swear, I’ll siphon one of you and hex the other if you don’t start talking,” Lizzie glowers, but backs off when Hope lays a hand on her arm, a gesture that surprises all three of them.

“Look, we can’t explain it right now. We need to find the damn book so that you can read it for yourself. It’s not our story to tell, and frankly we’re not sure about the details, too..”

Penelope takes a step closer to Lizzie. “Help us break into your dad’s office. You’ll understand everything when we get the registry, but before that, we can’t tell you anything.”

Lizzie’s face contorts with conflict, clearly morbidly curious but at the same time not wanting to seem desperate for information from her two biggest social rivals. “As soon as we get in, you’ll tell me every single thing. Deal?”

“Deal. And Lizzie…don’t tell Josie about any of this, okay? She can’t know,” Penelope pleads.

The blonde nods apprehensively. “I’ll stay quiet until we find whatever it is you’re trying to find.”

“Then it’s settled.”

A quiet sense of understanding passes between the three of them, people who have banded together for a common purpose. Penelope feels a pang of sympathy looking at Lizzie; Hope was right, if the curse is truly real, then both twins will be subjected to a future they both don’t deserve. For the first time, she wonders what life would’ve been like if she and Lizzie had gotten along from the start, if the twin’s relationship could’ve been balanced without antagonism from her side and ignorance from Lizzie’s. They’re not so different from each other, she knows. She, Lizzie, and even Hope love Josie in their own ways, and maybe this love is what caused Penelope to include her in their little mission.

She just hopes that Lizzie won’t resent her when she finds out the truth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the heist is commenced. the trio of self-deprecating witches finally work together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter went on far too long so i decided to split it in two. the next one will come up sometime this week/next week, i promise!
> 
> anyway, this kind of turned into a character study about the three of them (hope, penelope, and lizzie) and how their friendship dynamics evolved throughout their time together. i watched ep 10 and really started liking lizzie as a person; yeah, she's stuck-up and self-centered but it's not without a reason, and there's a good heart in there somewhere buried underneath all the snark.
> 
> enjoy!

Hope is leaning by the entrance to the cafeteria and staring off into the distance, which isn’t explicitly an unfamiliar view. If it were any normal day, Penelope would have just walked right by her, swallowing down a snarky observation on the girl’s questionable sense of fashion if she was feeling particularly friendly.

Their dynamic has always been sort of a mystery to the other students; unlike what every single cliché high school movie in existence tells you, the broody, she-is-the-chosen-one loner and the popular mean girl _can_ actually get along quite well, especially when they’re both witches in a school for supernatural creatures where ‘survival of the fittest’ takes on a whole new meaning. But lately, Penelope and Hope’s budding friendship has become the newest addition to the student body’s rumour mill, and if the whispers and stares are anything to go by (they are), this topic isn’t dying down anytime soon.

Penelope keeps this in mind as she approaches Hope, ignoring the sudden flurry of eyes directed at her as she taps the girl on her shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

Hope jumps a little in surprise. “Huh, nothing. I was just zoning out,” she mumbles, turning to her, but not before Penelope follows her line of sight and sees their friends eating their lunch together, the others obnoxiously laughing while MG does an impression of Professor Saltzman’s disappointed-dad face, which is sort of unfair because Hope is usually the one on the receiving end of such faces.

Penelope rolls her eyes at their antics, but then notices Hope’s slumped shoulders and twiddling thumbs, and asks, “Why aren’t you sitting with them?”

Hope stares at her with an unreadable expression for a while. “You know...since apparently everyone thinks that we’re buddies now, might as well confirm their suspicions, right? Can I tell you something?”

“Sure, uh, what kind of something?”

Hope lets out a small, sad laugh. “This is going to sound so pathetic, but … all my life, I’ve never minded being alone,” she says, almost bitterly. “I never bothered making friends because at the end of the day, they were just people who are gonna leave at some point in life.”

“That’s depressing,” Penelope points out, stepping back to let two vampires pass through, and then leans on the opposite side of the doorframe.

“But,” Hope continues, “sometimes I just want to talk to people my age. To laugh and gossip and not have to _care_ about saving the world all the time. But I don’t have that. And it fucking stings, realizing that I can’t even pretend to be living a normal life because there’s no one to do it with. I’ve always blamed it on people being afraid of me and the whole tribrid thing, but I’m starting to think that maybe, part of it is my own fault.”

Penelope didn’t realize that their late night conversation opened an invitation for Hope to do it with her as well (albeit during the day, in front of the cafeteria where a nosy student can overhear them at any second), but Hope’s eyes are so full of longing and she looks lost that Penelope’s heart breaks a little, so much so that she can’t even find the will to tease or make fun of her. Hope was there for her a few nights ago, so she’s going to suck it up and be a good friend by being considerate and sensitive and supportive and – fuck, she needs more practice in this.

She’s always been good with words, always knew how to say the right things to make someone feel a certain way, but she knows that words aren’t what Hope needs right now. Penelope grabs Hope’s left arm and lightly drags her inside, ignoring the surprised “Hey!”. Penelope ignores someone – probably Ashley, the witch who she knows, from a moment of weakness after her messy breakup with Josie, is quite skilled with her tongue – calling her to sit at their table, and marches over to where her friends are sitting.

Friends is….a bit of a stretch, she admits. MG she’s close with, but Rafael and Landon are practically strangers (they’re boys, and boys are always somewhat uninteresting unless they prove otherwise). Lizzie and her are in that weird gray area where they hate each other’s guts but are tolerating each other for the sake of working together, and her relationship is Josie isn’t something she’d exactly call friendship, either.

That doesn’t stop her from pushing Hope to sit in front of Landon, who widens his eyes before diverting them at his lasagna.

“Hey, guys,” Penelope says cheerfully. “Mind if Hope and I sit with you?”

She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer and takes a seat next to Lizzie on the other side of the table, which earns her stares from everyone.

“What? Are you all rendered speechless by my presence?”

Lizzie scoffs and turns back to her salad, poking it with an alarming intensity. “I would make an anaphylactic shock joke right now if it weren’t so inappropriate.”

MG cuts in with a wide, friendly smile. “Anyway, Penelope, Hope, we were taking bets on what ‘supernatural creature’,” he emphasizes with jazz hands, “Landon could possibly be. I’m putting my money on chameleon.”

“You think Landon is a small, green reptile that lives in the forest and feeds on flies?” Penelope deadpans. “No offense, Landon.”

The boy raises his hands and says, “None taken.”

“Think about it. Chameleons are people who have the ability to blend themselves in and turn invisible. Landon, you said that you didn’t have friends in primary, middle, and high school right? Maybe it’s because you couldn’t control your powers and blended in with the crowd too much!” MG says excitedly.

Landon cringes, and Hope shoots him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, but I definitely had some people’s attention, alright. The guys at Mystic Falls High made sure I remembered them every week.”

“And I chased them after they finished beating you up,” Rafael says proudly.

“What about some type of faerie?” Hope suggests. “Like a dryad, or a nymph. Your powers wouldn’t be internal like ours but stemming from nature.”

Landon shakes his head. “Nature? Yeah, no...I do _not_ do well outdoors.”

Penelope decides to throw her hat in the ring. “What about a banshee? They’re creatures that scream whenever something bad happens. Could be you.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Josie squirm at the sound of her voice.

“Penelope,” MG chides.

“She’s not wrong. Banshees can sense bad omens, right? Ever since you’ve been here, something bad keeps happening. The knife, the sudden appearance of all those weird creatures, like the gargoyle and the spider, and my mom not coming home for our sixteenth birthday. They could be connected,” Lizzie chimes in.

Rafael furrows his eyebrows in annoyance. “So you’re saying that Landon caused all that? Your mom not coming home is somehow his fault?”

Landon shrinks further in his seat, his soup long cold and forgotten.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Lizzie backtracks hurriedly, horrified at the prospect of Rafael disagreeing with her. “Maybe he found his way here because the bad omen drew him in. His presence isn’t a trigger, it’s a warning.”

“That makes sense.” Penelope hums in agreement. “I’m putting my money on the banshee.”

“Me too,” Lizzie adds.

MG leans back on his chair and whistles. “Damn, you both got me convinced.” He glances at the girl sitting in front of him, and asks, “What about you, Josie? Have an idea of what Landon might be?”

With a jolt, Penelope realizes that Josie hasn’t spoken a single word during the entire exchange. She snaps to attention at the call of her name, but Penelope can tell that she’s still distracted.

“Umm...no, I don’t have a clue,” Josie says, tapping her fingers on the table. “Kind of weird to see you two get along, though,” she adds, almost accusingly. She’s looking straight at Lizzie, but Penelope knows who else Josie is referring to.

Penelope and Lizzie exchange a quick, tense glance, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the table’s occupants. “Great minds think alike,” Penelope jokes uncomfortably.

“Oh, so now you’re complimenting her?” Josie’s tone is definitely accusatory now. The table becomes awkwardly silent, save for Lizzie’s response.

“Josie, chill. We don’t have to disagree _all_ the time, and besides, it’s just a game. No need to get so worked up about it.”

Clearly it’s the wrong thing to say, because Josie clenches her jaw and stands up abruptly, grabbing her bag. “I’m going to my room to work on my Magical History essay now, so I’d appreciate it if no one disturbs me.”

Lizzie whispers “We have to write a Magical History essay?” to MG at the same time Landon enthusiastically asks, “Want me to come with you? I don’t know much about supernatural history, but I can work with Google just fine.”

Josie looks at Penelope straight in the eye as she answers, “Sure. Let’s go, Raf,” and tugs him along.

Not a minute goes by before Landon scrambles up and announces that he has to meet Emma for another one of his which-creature-am-I tests, leaving in such a haste that no one else really buys it. MG excuses himself not long after too, mumbling something that Penelope suspects to be, “This is hella awkward, and I _really_ don’t want to be here when this blows up.”

That leaves Penelope, Hope, and Lizzie sitting together in a lunch table. Hope shifts uncomfortably from all the hushed attention that they’re getting from nearby students, Lizzie squints at the nutrition label of her organic, artisanal wild strawberry juice, and Penelope tries to come up with a team name for them. The Avengers Squad? Taken. The Super Squad? Too vague. The Demigod Squad? Neither of them are actually that.

The Liars Squad has a nice ring to it, and it’s taken from Penelope’s absolute favorite TV show ever. She’s an absolute sucker for intelligent, cunning, and ambitious young women, not to mention that Emily is, like, super hot.

“...right, Penelope?”

She snaps from her daze to see Lizzie staring expectantly, and Hope exasperatedly, at her. “Huh?” The syllable wasn’t meant to sound so clueless, but it does so anyway.

“I just don’t understand why you guys won’t tell me what this is all about! It’ll be much easier if I know what we’re actually looking for,” Lizzie grumbles, crossing her arms and huffing back on her chair, but there’s an underlying hint of reluctance in her tone that Penelope picks up. She knows that Lizzie is suspicious of why she and Hope have been so adamant about keeping quiet about the whole thing, and the fact that they’re not doing it out of spite must’ve knocked some fear into her.

If they’re right, then Lizzie will have to face more than just a little fear.

Penelope crosses her arms determinedly. “Look, Saltzman. If everything goes right today, then we’ll all know the truth, okay? So listen up. Lizzie, you distract your dad and keep him out of the east wing –  or even better – out of the school; Hope, you stand guard by the office and turn people away; I’ll search for the book since I’m the only one who knows what it looks like. Depending on how noticeable it’ll be if I move it, I’ll either bring the book with me or use my phones to take pictures, and we’ll rendezvous in Hope’s room before sunset. Sounds like a plan?” She _loves_ scheming, and the fact that this particular little plan has a lot riding on it makes her heart race with anticipation. There’s something else, too: an ambition, a deep desire to see a well-thought plan driven into completion. A hazy memory begins playing in the back of Penelope’s mind, one of an apathetic mother and a little girl desperate to get her attention.

Lizzie and Hope nod, and the gears start turning.

Penelope perches on an armchair in the common area, eyes glued to her phone. A sophomore kid nervously approaches her with a shaky, “Hey, Penelope. So I was wondering if –,” and scampers away just as quickly when she holds a dismissive hand up, eyes never leaving her phone.

A grey bubble pops up with the word, “Go.”, and she snaps to the right to look all the way at the end of the hall, where Hope stands boredly waiting for her signal. Penelope taps her temple three times, and Hope pushes herself off the wall to start doing her part.

Granted, the whole exchange is a bit dramatic, but Penelope enjoys channeling her inner sly, rich, and influential middle-aged TV businesswoman persona, sitting with her chin high and one leg crossed over the other, the upper tips of her fingers pressing against each other in a diabolical yet elegant manner.

She hears distant stomps and one loud, angry, “Dr. Saltzman, I need to talk to you!” before students start shuffling out hallway and past the common area. No one likes getting caught in an argument between the headmaster and his protégé, so it’s no surprise that the hall clears out fairly quickly, allowing Penelope to walk towards where Hope is standing near the office door.

“Ready?” Hope says, leaning on the wall in an attempt to look casual to future by-passers.

Penelope casts an unlocking spell, and the door opens easily. “Don’t let anyone in, okay? Especially not one of the teachers, and _especially_ especially not Professor Saltzman. If I end up having to resort to my magic and charming personality to get by on the streets after he kicks me out of here, just know that I’ll be blaming it on you.”

Hope rolls her eyes and doesn’t answer, but Penelope isn’t waiting for one, anyway. She slips into the office and starts her search.

 

* * *

 

Her dad is casually lounging on the bench overlooking the lake behind the school, looking calm and peaceful for once. Wistfully familiar, too, like the man who used to lift her high with his arms when she was a child and whose booming laughter echoed through the large spaces of their home. Nowadays, he constantly looks tense and exhausted, as if ready for the next attack, the crease between his eyebrows never completely disappearing. Pockets of peace like these don’t come often for him, so she knows that what she’s about to do will disturb what little time he has to himself.

Lizzie pauses her steps and swallows her discomfort, the whispers of self-doubt coiling in her stomach. She’s only recently become aware of this, of the fact that talking one-on-one with her dad leaves her with misplaced anxiety and a small bout of self-awareness that she’s his one and only fucked-up daughter. Josie is smart and calm and always in control of her emotions, and Hope (who is basically his daughter, too, she knows, no matter how much they both try to deny it) is bold and spirited and although she’s a little (a lot) broken inside, she knows how to hold herself together, knows how to stitch parts of herself tightly enough to stop the sadness from leaking out. Whereas Lizzie….Lizzie breaks and smashes and screams until every piece of her has drained out, leaving other people to clean up her mess. She’s the damaged daughter, the stain of the family, and she sees the disappointment in her dad’s eyes after every episode, every breakdown.

But right now, Hope and Penelope are depending on her, so she squashes down the self-deprecation and lets a smile rise in its place. “Hi daddy.”

“Hey, Lizzie,” Alaric grins, light and young. The corners of his eyes lift as Lizzie takes a seat on the bench next to him. “What’s up?”

“Trying to use slang again, dad?” Lizzie rolls her eyes playfully. “There’s no shame in being old, you know.”

“I’m not old,” Alaric says indignantly, and Lizzie scoffs.

“I heard your back crack, like, five times during our last sparring session, dad. I would’ve been worried if I wasn’t too busy kicking your ass.”

“I let you win!”

“Josie had to do a superhearing spell to make sure your heart wouldn’t actually burst out of your chest from sheer exhaustion.”

Her dad laughs. “I remember that.”

A lull follows, and – there it is, that slight air of awkwardness hanging between them. Lizzie spares a quick glance at her dad, and she knows exactly what’s on his mind, because it’s on hers too. The last time they sparred was almost three months ago, and the last time the three of them spent some quality family time together was during Christmas, right before her mom left for her latest mysterious quest and went radio silent.

It’s May now.

Alaric swallows. “Lizzie, I – I know I haven’t been around much for you and Josie lately, what with all the recruitments, trainings, and keeping up appearances in town. Plus, this entire Malivore knife business on top of everything.”

“And going on secret missions with Hope.” It slips out so easily, tinged with just enough hurt that Alaric winces. She hadn’t intended to say it, not really – now is _so_ not the time to bring up childhood resentment and jealousy issues, especially considering that this whole conversation was built on her need to stall him – but she did and now they’re here, about to have a long-overdue heart-to-heart talk.

“Hope needs a mentor, a family. Or else she’ll follow down her father’s path and that’s something that none of us wants to see. It’s complicated, you know that.”

And it sounds terribly like an excuse.

“What does that have to do with bringing her along to hunt monsters? Or during recruitments? You never let _us_ go with you. Why do you let her?” Her tone is laced with bitterness, and she glances down at her shoes, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

Lizzie suddenly feels seven, nine, thirteen again, all those times she sat alone while dark thoughts slithered throughout her mind, hugging her knees and wondering, not for the first time, why her dad always puts Hope’s needs before his daughter’s own's. She and Josie stopped blaming Hope a long time ago once they were old enough to understand just the extent of what Hope lost, but the damage had been done. It left a nasty scar in their friendship, one that’s only starting to recently heal, and it probably would’ve been the best for everyone if her dad hadn’t made Lizzie and Josie feel like they needed to compete for his attention, which consequently made Hope feel isolated and alone.

Alaric sighs, and Lizzie thinks that she can hear the disappointment in it. Like he thinks that she should already be mature enough to be above all this jealousy. But it’s not even about jealousy anymore, it’s about how his actions built an insecurity complex in three young girls that’s still present until today and he doesn’t even know it.

Distantly, Lizzie feels guilty for ruining what little peace her dad had to himself, for turning what was simple a friendly father-daughter conversation into….an argument, or whatever this is.

 _You ruin everything you touch_ , a familiar voice whispers in the back of her head. She ignores it.

“There’s so much that we don’t know about the range of Hope’s abilities, and allowing her to practice in the field will help her to explore that. A lot of it are only low-risk recruitment missions, anyway. And she’s only coming with me to hunt monsters escaping from Malivore because Landon’s somehow tied to it, and he’s important to her,” he reminds her.

Lizzie ponders this for a moment, meeting his eyes. “Well, can I come with you next time? I’d like to help you figure out where the knife came from, or what it can do – ,”

“Whoa.” He throws up both hands in a ‘calm down’ gesture. “Honey, I know you want to help but this one is dangerous, okay? I want you to focus on the upcoming exams and your assignments, not this. I don’t want any of you to get involved.”

“Fine,” she accepts. No matter the problems between them, he’s still her dad and all he wants is to protect her. Silence follows, but this one feels a little lighter, less thick now that they’ve both laid their thoughts out.

“Hey dad. Hey Lizzie.” Josie’s voice jars them, and Lizzie turns, confused, to find her sister walking towards them carrying thick sheets of paper.

“Oh, hey Jose.” She scoots over to make room on the bench, but Josie shakes her head.

“I’m just here to give dad the stuff he asked for, I was heading to the office but saw you guys here, so I figured I could give them now.”

“What stuff?”

“Nothing,” Alaric interrupts quickly, sitting up straighter. “Nothing important, sweetie. Just some files I need for research.” He reaches to take the stack of papers from Josie, and Lizzie sneaks a glance at them. She recognizes the diagrams and incantations written on the top sheet, and frowns.

“Why would your research need an energy binding spell?” She looks curiously between Josie and her dad, who is shifting uncomfortably and has a strange expression on his face.  “What exactly is this for?”

Alaric opens his mouth to answer, but Josie beats him to it, easily answering, “It’s so you can trace back the energy link between the knife and this place, Malivore, right? I read through the spells you asked me to find, and most of them have something to do with reverse tracking energy,” she explains excitedly. “I didn’t even know half of these spells existed!”

Lizzie raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?” she asks, irritation poking through the words. Alaric winces and avoids her glare.  

“Huh?” Josie looks lost, her grin faltering as she picks up on the tension.

_He told you to stay away, but turned to Josie for help. He doesn’t trust you, he doesn’t need you, he doesn’t think that you can help._

There’s a sour taste in Lizzie’s mouth, and something akin to anger burning low in her stomach. But she can’t take it out on Josie, never. Not even when she’s being left out from whatever her dad and sister are doing behind her back.

_Why do you love me the least?_

Her lungs tighten and a lump rises up her throat, and there it is. That familiar feeling of slowly choking on her anger, trying to shove it down before everything spills over and becomes a mess and her dad will finally look at her with resigned eyes again. Her nails dig into her palms, pressing on the the faded crescent scars on her hands, slivers of semi-raised skin caused by years and years of her attempts at self-control.

Alaric and Josie haven’t noticed yet. Her dad has gladly welcomed the distraction and is now skimming through the spellsheets, while Josie is still standing in front of Lizzie, head bent down and scrolling through her phone.

Lizzie feels restless, and she needs to get out of there before she blows up. She can’t stand another minute there, sitting and faking a smile for the only two people in the world who can see right through it.

Though, from the distant way her dad’s been acting lately, she doubts that he’ll notice something off with her careful, practiced “I’m fine!”s.

It strikes her, just then. This is the first time she’s felt uncomfortable with her family.

_(They’re not doing anything. You’re the one jumping into baseless conclusions.)_

Lizzie jolts up, surprising the other two. “I need – I need to go.” Her hands are fiddling with the hem of her shirt, one of her more obvious tells, and peripherally she sees Josie narrowing her eyes at her. “I’m late….for something. ”

“Oh, okay.” Alaric looks up at her, slightly confused at the sudden gesture.

She tries to stop herself from breathing so heavily.

“I guess I’ll go to my office to work on this, then. I’ll see you later, girls.” He starts to stand up, hands poised on his knees and ready to push off, but startles back down when Lizzie barks out a sharp, “No!”

Two pairs of eyes stare at her. “I – I mean, this whole thing can wait a few more hours, right?” she stammers. “You can’t research properly if you’re burned out all the time, dad.”

“But –,”

“Actually, Rafael just texted,” Josie adds. “He wants to train with me in the gym, so I’ll meet him near the kitchens and we’ll pass your office on the way. I can drop the papers off if you want.” Her smile is wide and honest, and despite being within two feet of each other, Lizzie feels the distance stretching between them, widening with each lie and hidden truths. “Lizzie’s right, you deserve a little me-time too, daddy.”

“Actually,” Lizzie yelps, “uhh, why don’t you just give them to me, dad? Rafael must be waiting for you now, Jose. I’ll get them to your office.” She tries to swipe the stack out of her dad’s grip, but he just leans back in surprise, angling his body towards her.

Behind him, Josie tilts her head, brows furrowed, and mouths, “What’s going on?”

Of course Josie sees through her. Lizzie forces a smile through gritted teeth, feeling as stupid as a hamster who’s been put in a cardboard maze and has been circling around for minutes, desperate to find a way out of there. Alaric’s eyes dart between both of his daughters, bewildered and a little exasperated.

She’s at lost of what to say and just stands there, mouth trying to stammer out another excuse to keep her dad and Josie away from the office.

She comes up blank.

 _You had one job_ , the voice hisses.

“Anyway,” Josie says slowly, “Rafael’s waiting for me, so I’ll be going now.” She shoots another pointed look at Lizzie, one that she knows, from years and years of being subjected to it, means ‘we’ll talk later’, and extends a hand towards Alaric, who hands her the spellsheets.

Lizzie eyes the exchange while the words, _shit, shit, shit, son of a bitch!_ blares on repeat in her mind. She’s pretty sure that an entire fire alarm is going off in her head as she watches Josie jog up the hill towards the campus.

“Uh, I gotta go too, dad. See ya, have fun staring at the lake.”

“Thanks, Liz….” The rest of his words fade out as Lizzie power walks away, trying to move as quickly as possible without arousing suspicion. She pulls out her phone and shoots out a worried text.

**lizzard [14.26]**

GUYS EMERGENCY JOSIE’S OTW THERE

GUYS!!!!

**hope m [14.27]**

what the fuck

shit im with emma rn she passed by and i didnt know how to explain why i was just standing like a statue

she started an impromptu counseling session w me, i had to follow her

i gtg srry shes coming back you both deal with this

**lizzard [14.29]**

HOPE DSFKJGHDSFKG DON’T ABANDON ME

**[missed group call from lizzard]**

PENELOPE PICK UP YOU INSOLENT TWAT

**peneloap [14.32]**

I’ve only searched half the place

Guys, what should I do?

Should we abort?

Lizzie bites her lip and considers it. She could tell Penelope to get out now and they can push the extraction for another day. That would be the wiser choice; her dad is being pulled away from the school by more and more monster hunts lately, and they could eliminate the chance of anyone ever finding out about the break-in, with Josie being number one on that list.

They should cancel this. If Josie catches Penelope snooping around in their dad’s office, then whatever secret she and Hope have been trying to keep won’t be a secret anymore, and they’ll have to face her dad and explain and it’ll end the same way it always does when it comes to him. The risk is too big.

On the other hand….a part of Lizzie is dying to know what is in that book, why the knowledge contained within it is too heavy for Penelope and Hope to spill. From the worried way the two glance at each other whenever she brings it up and the promise she made to keep it silent from Josie, she knows that she won’t like whatever it is.

But she has to know. The curiosity is eating at her, and she won’t know the truth until they get that damn book.

**lizzard [14.33]**

DO NOT ABORT IDK WHEN ELSE WE’LL HAVE THE CHANCE

PENLIP JUST STAY THERE I’M COMING

*pebelopw

*penelope

**peneloap [14.33]**

**-_-**

Just hurry up

Lizzie runs up the stairs to the east wing and takes three steps at a time, which immediately proves to be a bad decision because she is _wheezing_ her lungs out right now. She’s really behind on training if running up two flights of stairs makes her heart feel like it’s going to go on cardiac arrest any minute.

She skids around the adjacent corridor and finds no one there. Good, Josie must’ve taken the longer way through the kitchens, which probably buys them less than three minutes. She yanks down the door handle and bursts into the office, eyes scanning for the other witch.

“Penelope? It’s – WHOA PUT THAT DOWN.”

Penelope lowers the arm that was seconds away from letting a desk lamp fly across the room. “Why did you barge in like that?” she hisses. “Don’t you have any concept of stealth whatsoever?”

“No time.” Lizzie pulls on her arm and shoves her out the room. Penelope stumbles and glares at her.

“Why the hell is Josie even coming here?”

“I’ll explain later. Right now you need to stall her out here and make sure she doesn’t come in.”

“What? Why don’t you do it? She hates me, and you’re her sister,” Penelope demands, side-eyeing the hallway in case anyone turns up.

“I can’t lie to her face, she’ll see right through it immediately. We’re twins, we can read each other faster than the time it takes to come up with a lie. Besides, you’re a great liar! This is totally up your lane.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Look, we don’t have time. Tell me what I’m supposed to be looking for,” Lizzie says hurriedly.

Penelope regards her for a short second, and Lizzie thinks that the other girl almost looks worried. “I’ve checked the entire bookshelf and the cabinet of school files, so the back half of the room is clear. You’ll have to go through his desk and everything around it. Remember, you’re looking for a leather-bound book about this big,” she raises both hands horizontally, one level with her throat and the other with her stomach, “with the title _Caeleste Indexium_ carved into the cover. Can’t miss it.” Penelope seizes the door to close it, but Lizzie catches it before it shuts.

“Wait, should I take it with me or take pictures of the pages or what?” she asks, panic coloring her voice.

“Do whatever you think is best. Look, if Josie’s on her way here now, then I need to go or else she’ll catch both of us here and it’s over.”

“I – okay. Okay.” Lizzie shakes her head and lets out the breath she was holding. “I’ll find it, I promise.”

Penelope looks at her again with that indiscernible expression. Just when Lizzie thinks that she’s going to leave, the girl does something that surprises them both.

“Be careful, okay? Don’t get hurt.” Penelope squeezes her arm for a few seconds, then drops it and moves back across the threshold.

 _It’s only an office, and I’ve been here countless times before. What do I need to be careful of?_ Lizzie opens her mouth to ask, but Penelope is already rushing away, disappearing around the corner.

Alright, then.

She shuts the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the discovery pt 2. a solution makes itself known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nngnghh hope realizing her attitude is what’s keeping her from connecting with other people? acknowledging that opening up will genuinely get her a lot more friends? i can’t believe i called it lmao
> 
> lizzie is officially my favorite character on the show…i’m seriously so whipped for her and i really love her character development in ep 11? charming her bracelet to zap her in an attempt to be nicer, being perceptive enough to recognize what ‘mean thing’ josie would say with her inhibitions lowered and accepting it as the truth, giving up her spotlight for josie and even working together with penelope to make everything perfect for her sister. her character is so flawed and realistic and i love that so much.
> 
> also does anyone find it interesting that whenever we see josie acting irregularly (during the AU, when being slugged), she always has a mean streak? it's implied that if their roles were reversed, josie would grow up to be genuinely resentful of lizzie (even making fun of her meds and mental disorder) and downright calling her a terrible sister, while we never see that with lizzie, who although is self-absorbed, will defend josie from anyone who insults her (like punching dana in the rugby match ep). 
> 
> this show, i swear :')

 

Penelope barely manages to throw herself on the couch on the adjacent corridor and slip out her phone before she hears Josie’s voice coming from the staircase, gradually getting louder with each second. She crosses one leg above the other, then frowns and undoes the action, slinging an arm across the back of the sofa instead in an attempt to look casual.

She feels a little stupid posing like that, one hand pretending to scroll through her phone as if it’s just a regular occurrence and definitely not her preparing herself for Josie’s presence.

“ – but I’m sure it was nothing.” Penelope frowns at that, instinctively clenching her phone. That’s wolf boy’s voice. “She’ll tell you eventually.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just that I’ve always been able to –,” Josie’s words die out as she stops in her tracks at the sight of Penelope lounging alone. Rafael bumps into her from the sudden pause. “Penelope?” she blurts in surprise.

Penelope lazily drags her eyes away from her phone, gazing at Josie with half-lidded eyes and a smirk. Her right arm remains slinged behind the chair, and she shrugs the awkward feeling off. “Hey, Jojo.”

Josie clutches what looks like a pile of thick parchment papers close to her chest and swallows, looking at lost of what to say. Her eyes dart around before pointedly settling at the throw pillows lining the couch.

Behind her, Rafael clears his throat. “Nice to, uh, see you, Penelope.” He raises his hand in what is supposed to be a friendly wave.

She barely spares him a glance.

“So, what brings you here?” she asks playfully at Josie. “Come to find me?”

Josie scoffs, leaning on a hip. “I forgot how self-centered you can be.”

Penelope rises from her seat and takes a meaningful step closer to Josie. “The world needs the selfish and the selfless, remember?” The words come out softly, and Josie lets out a small gasp.

They take a second to breathe at each other.

Penelope feels as if the world has made them its focal point, the way everything ceases to matter except for the way Josie is staring at her with wide eyes, lips slightly parted, and she feels a sense of déjà vu to the night of the twins’ sixteenth birthday, when Josie had the same expression on her face. Her heart starts racing at the memory of what happened right after.

Then, Rafael speaks. And the moment is broken.

“Umm, are we still going to the gym, Josie? I mean, I can leave…” he says awkwardly, shuffling his feet.

“Yes, that would be nice, wolf boy. Go do that.”

“Penelope!” Josie hisses.

“What? I mean, he offered.”

“Whatever, I have things to do. So, if you’ll excuse me.” Josie shoulders past her, and in panic, Penelope grabs her shoulder and spins her back. Josie stiffens under her touch.

“Wait. Are we – are we going to talk about what happened on the night of your birthday?”

“What’s there to talk about? Nothing happened, we don’t have to talk about anything,” Josie sputters.

Penelope raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t really call you kissing me ‘nothing’.”

“You kissed me first!”

“Yeah, but you kissed me back.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re in denial.”

“No, I’m not!”

Penelope shoots her an impish grin. “Would you kiss me now if I asked?”

“No! You know the answer to that!”

“Do I?”

“Stop messing with me, Penelope,” Josie says through gritted teeth. “Please, just – I need to go somewhere.”

Penelope falters. She feels horrible for turning a sensitive matter into a stalling ploy. They need to talk about whatever’s going on between them at the proper time and place, not in the middle of a pseudo-heist, with Penelope stalling for time on one side and Josie doing her best to escape from the other.

“I – ,” She’s grasping for words to say. Josie can’t get into the office, not while Lizzie’s still in there and they’re so, so close.

But this is manipulation, isn’t it? And the last thing Penelope wants is to hurt Josie once more.

“Josie, is it okay if you go with Rafael,” his ears perk up at the sound of his name. Zero doubt that he’s a canine, “and come back later? I can’t tell you why right now, but you need to trust me. Please.” She injects as much sincerity into her voice as possible, mentally willing Josie to just take her word for it and leave.

Josie looks at her disbelievingly, like she can’t even fathom the words coming out of Penelope’s mouth. “Are you serious? You snap your fingers and expect me to go?”

“Look, it’s complicated, but I – ,”

She lets out a bitter laugh, turning away. A few sheets flutter to the floor unnoticed. “It’s always complicated with you, isn’t it? You hide, and hide, and hide things from me all the time.”

“What?” Penelope asks incredulously. “When have I ever hidden anything from you? I never lied to you, not even after we,” her tongue stumbles for a moment, “after we broke up.”

Dimly, Penelope hears Rafael excuse himself, citing something about leaving them to sort out their relationship, but neither of them notice him leave. She can’t see Josie’s face, and it’s killing her to know that Josie’s doing it on purpose. It’s always been an inside joke between them, that Josie wears her heart on her sleeve, and now she’s refusing to let Penelope read her like she always does.

“You were going to someone’s room a few nights ago and tried to cover it up,”

“Wait, whoa, that’s – ,”

“You and Lizzie seem to have found a sense of camaraderie during the last week, which came out of nowhere,”

“That’s barely – ,”

“And the worst part is,” Josie barrels on with clenched teeth, her shoulders rising up and down with anger, “You broke up with me and you won’t even tell me why! You stopped loving me, Penelope, how was I supposed to take that?”

Thick silence envelops them, the kind that presses down with just enough weight to feel suffocating.

“Josie, look at me,” Penelope whispers.

Josie doesn’t turn, just holds her head higher and continues to look away. Penelope figures that that’s fair enough.

“I didn’t…stop loving you,” she presses on carefully, afraid to bruise Josie even more. “I need you to know that. Even if you despise me from now on, I need you to know that I didn’t end things because I stopped loving you.”

“Then tell me,” Josie’s voice breaks as she finally turns around, and Penelope’s heart breaks at the sight of her trembling jaw, her teary eyes. “Why did you do it?”

“I told you, I hate seeing you wrapped around Lizzie. You were so co-dependent to the point you weren’t even thinking about yourself,” Penelope points out.

“But why did you have to leave me? If you really loved me, you would’ve stayed and helped instead.” They’re standing face to face now, just like before. But unlike before, Josie’s staring at her with such pain in her eyes, and it frustrates Penelope to the point where she can’t even think straight.

The truth is wavering at the tip of her tongue, begging to be spilled. In order to win the Merge, Josie will have to draw on the strength of her will, and that’s something she needs to build herself. Every moment she spends devoting herself to all the people in her life is just more and more time wasted. Taking Penelope out of the equation gives Josie more space to find herself.

“Tell me the truth.”

Penelope wishes Josie could siphon the regret out of her. “I can’t.”

Josie’s face goes blank, her eyes hardening as if her emotions had been shut down. She shudders once, and then takes a few steps backwards.

This time, Penelope really doesn’t know if the distance between them has finally stretched on too far.

“Then I guess we’re done here,” Josie says coldly.

Penelope watches her leave down the staircase and disappear into the corner of the hallway.

After months and months, they’ve finally had their first proper talk about their break up, and it couldn’t have ended any worse than this.

Penelope groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. As if her relationship with the twins weren’t complicated enough already, what with this mess of spoken and unspoken words between her and Josie, and the whole heist situation with Lizzie…

“Shit, Lizzie.”

She rushes and tries to yank the handle open, only to find it locked. She bangs the door twice.   
“Lizzie, open up.”

Lizzie’s response is muffled. “Go away, Park.”

“We need to bail soon. If you haven’t found the book yet then we’ll need to do this another time, someone’s bound to catch us after this long,” she says through the door. Why did Lizzie even lock it after she left?

There’s no answer. Now she’s getting worried.

Penelope gives the door a onceover, just to check whether Lizzie might or might not have pulled a prank by cursing it. When she deems it safe, she casts a quick unlocking spell, the lock clicking open easily under her hands.

“Hey, why did you lock the – oh, crap.”

Lizzie is crouched into a ball on the floor, hugging her knees so tightly that it looks painful and rocking back and forth, the large, leather-bound book tightly grasped by her chest. Her eyes are tightly shut, as if she’s focusing on something with all her might.

Penelope approaches her like one would with a hissy cat, prone to exploding any second. She crouches in front of the blonde, and channels the calmest voice she can muster. “Hey, listen to me. You’re going to be fine, okay? Whatever you read, we can discuss it together later but right now, you need to breathe. In and out, in and out.”

Lizzie’s eyes fly open. “I _am_ breathing, you heathen,” she snaps. “And stop doing that Neil Degrasse Tyson impression with your voice, it’s stressing me out even more.”

Penelope rolls her eyes and sits on the floor. “And here I was, trying to put our differences aside and help you overcome a life-changing revelation. My bad.”

Lizzie raises a finger to shut her up. “What you were doing was disturbing the mind exercises Emma taught me to redirect my sudden pent-up emotions. So you were being a disturbance, as usual.”

“You’re telling me that you were doing mental kegels.”

“It’s like you _want_ me to freak out and trash this place.”

They both huff in annoyance at the same time. The edges of Lizzie’s eyes are still tight, but she’s beginning to look calmer, the rise and fall of her shoulders steadier compared to before.

Penelope gently pries the book away from Lizzie’s death-grip, and surprisingly, the girl lets her without any resistance.

“I read it,” Lizzie says flatly, looking past her. “The thing about the Merge, and how Josie and I will have to fight each other in a battle of wills. All that crap about traditional rituals and leadership of the coven. It’s all there.”

“And how do you feel about this?” Penelope asks cautiously. Lizzie seems awfully calm for someone who’s just been told that they’re fated for a death match with their twin in six years. “You don’t…look as bothered as I thought you would be.”

Lizzie just shrugs. “I mean, don’t tell me you actually believe it?”

Penelope stares at her, dumbfounded. “It’s a written prophecy, Lizzie. I’m pretty sure I have no choice but to believe it, and so do you.”

“Look, there’s no way I’m going to fight Josie because of some freaky ritual that a bunch of dusty witches came up with hundreds of years ago. I have the right to exercise my autonomy.” Despite the force behind her words, Lizzie lifts a hand to her mouth and agitatedly bites on a nail.

“Magic doesn’t care about your autonomy!”

“Well, I don’t care. I am _not_ letting some dumbass prophecy dictate what I’m supposed to do with my life. Watch me sip piña coladas on a balcony of the Four Seasons in Milan when I turn 22. Like hell am I going to think Josie to death.”

Penelope rubs her temples. Out of all the scenarios she imagined of Lizzie finding out, ranging from another destructive episode to her collapsing into a sobbing mess, brushing it off as if the prophecy is just a fictional fairy tale takes the cake as the furthest of them.

Luckily, she’s saved from a response when Hope barges in the office, panting.

“I’m here, I’m here. Came as fast as I could. Emma was weirdly fixated on my lack of social life and seemed to imply that I need emotional therapy or something, but whatever. So, what did I miss?” Her expression turns bewildered as she takes in the scene, Penelope sitting with her legs crossed with the book balanced on one thigh, and Lizzie hugging her knees next to her.

Penelope rolls her eyes. “Elle Woods here is in denial.”

“No, I’m not! You both are just too gullible,” Lizzie says furiously, jumping up from the floor.

Penelope crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at her. “You are the single most stubborn person I’ve ever met; I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if all that ego started osmosis-ing out of your twig body at this very second. Hope, tell her.”

“Hope!”

Hope stomps a foot in frustration. “Guys, can we discuss this somewhere else? If someone catches us here, we’re toast. And Lizzie, if that someone happens to be your dad, then you won’t even have to wait six years to get iced. So can we leave now?”

“Where, though?” Penelope points out.

“I don’t know, one of our rooms?”

Penelope’s and Lizzie’s eyes grow wide.

“There’s no way I’ll have my room desecrated by your presence –,” “Josie will kill me if I allow Penelope in –,” “The thought of you encroaching on my personal space –,” “It’s bad enough that I have to look at a picture of your face taped on the mirror every morning, now you’re going to be there _in person_ –,”

“Wait,” Penelope interrupts, “there’s a picture of me in your room? How come?”

“Josie, duh.” Lizzie rolls her eyes, as if it was stupid that Penelope even has to ask. “She kept a polaroid of you on one of your dates, the one where the moon made half your face a silhouette and you can kinda see the trees from the woods in the background. Such a shame, I would’ve preferred it if your entire face was shadowed, but eh. Speaking of dates, remember when you guys went on a double date with MG and Alyssa last year, which I was _so_ rudely not invited, by the way…”

Penelope stopped listening after the first sentence. “She did?” she murmurs. God, Penelope had assumed that Josie threw out everything that represented their relationship upon their break up, or at least took them all down. She has boxes and boxes of pictures, gifts, and clothes collecting dust underneath her bed, all of them remaining untouched for almost a year. Opening them would feel like poking into a wet, open wound, and returning them to Josie feels like such a petty thing to do, symbolizing the end of everything culminated between the two of them, memories stacked upon in each other in neatly taped cardboard boxes.

“…can’t comprehend why you would even think to have a romantic festivity at the Grill, of all places –,”

“Guys,” Hope groans, “just pick a place and get on with it. We need to leave, like, right now.”

“Fine. Let’s go to your room.” Penelope strides over to the door, patting Hope’s shoulder on the way. Surprisingly, Lizzie follows her.

“Good idea.”

Hope sputters. “What? That’s not what I – seriously? Fine.”

They all take extra precautions as to prevent any wandering student from witnessing the three of them enter Hope’s room at the same time in order to avoid invoking any chance of  immediate social suicide, or at the very least, some very intrusive questions from the half of the student body who like to live in the dangerous side. Extra precautions only meaning coming in five minutes after the other person, but hey, Penelope’s not going to complain. Anything to ward off the cycling rumors and Josie’s subsequent suspicion.

It’s awkward, at first. Hope goes to bounce on her bed, kicking her shoes off, and Penelope follows suit, sitting on the edge and tucking her legs beneath her. Lizzie lingers reluctantly at first, clearly never having imagined herself in Hope’s room under any circumstance, but then takes a tentative seat on a desk chair. They all avoid each other’s eyes for a half a minute, until Hope decides to break the silence.

“Okay, so I’m just going to ignore how weird it is to have you two, of all people, sitting in my room right now and focus on the what just happened. I suggest you do the same.”

“Yeah, alright.” Penelope places the book on her lap and skims through it. “Okay, here’s the part about the Gemini coven. Early history, creation, signature magic, blah blah blah. Here. The Merge is a powerful ritual performed as a practiced tradi – hey!” The throw pillow hits her square on the face, knocking her concentration. A few feet away from her, Lizzie lowers her outstretched hand. “What was that for?!”

“I don’t need to hear about it again. Once was enough, thank you very much.” Lizzie pushes herself off and lets the chair roll across the room, just stopping when she bumps into Hope’s desk. A few items wobble in their place and she idly comments, “whoops.”, eyeing the pencil slowly rolling its way towards the edge of the table.

Penelope really, really tries her best to repress the urge to sock the blonde in her face.

“You seem awfully calm about this,” Hope remarks.

Penelope throws both her hands up. “That’s what I thought, too!” It’s honestly baffling how Lizzie is so casual about the whole situation, when it’s her own neck on the line.

Lizzie, for her part, just throws her head back and sighs dramatically. “Guys, if you’re choosing to believe in a half-baked fairytale that wouldn’t even get an A on a middle school creative writing class, then that’s on you. Do you really think my dad can keep a secret from Josie and I for sixteen whole years and not slip up once? Him, the guy who manages to consistently spoil our birthday surprises for the first ten years of our lives? And my mom would never keep something like this from me, it’s just not possible.”

Penelope and Hope exchange unsure glances. “But then why would the Merge be mentioned at all?” Hope asks tentatively. “I mean, it’s got to mean something.”

“Are you seriously suggesting that it’s more likely for a two-page story in a book bound with cow skin to be true than both my parents lying to me for my entire life?” Lizzie says with a rising voice, sitting up straight and glaring at them.

“Whoa, calm down. We’re not accusing your parents of anything.” Next to Penelope, Hope nods quickly in agreement. “We’re just saying, there’s barely any information about your coven. It might possibly be true.”

“It’s just,” Lizzie lets out a sound of distress, “so unbelievable. Having to fight Josie for leadership of a coven that’s practically dead anyway, and what about the fact that we’re both siphoners? We’re both practically useless without a magical item, so whose magic are we supposed to absorb? There are just too many holes.”

“Is there anyone from your family who might know?” Penelope questions.

She feels Hope tense beside her. “Penelope,” Hope warns quietly, glancing warily at Lizzie, but the blonde just waves her off.

“I mean, I have an uncle. But he’s trapped in a prison world in another dimension, so I’m not sure how that’ll work out.”

“…oh.”

Penelope feels frustration bubbling low in her stomach. They’re at a dead end, Lizzie’s stubbornly refusing to believe them, and there’s no one they can turn to. After everything they’ve done, there’s no other path they can take.

A small, doubtful part of her wonders whether she broke up with Josie for nothing. Not entirely for nothing – she still wants Josie to learn to put herself before others, but it wouldn’t have been as urgent, wouldn’t have been such a threat to her life.

“I have an idea.” Hope takes a deep breath. “There’s only one way to settle this.”

“We hold Lizzie’s dad hostage and interrogate him, point blank.” “We burn the book and cast a cleansing spell on you two to get rid of this moronic energy.”

“What? No, we find someone from your coven and ask them what this is all about.”

“Didn’t we just establish that there’s basically no one we can ask? Not including Lizzie’s parents, anyway, because that’ll tip them off,” Penelope points out.

“No, listen. What Lizzie said made me realize something. Siphoners are exclusive to the Gemini coven, right? We can do a locator spell for one and track them down, ask them if they know anything.”

“Are there even any siphoners left?” Penelope asks. “Wouldn’t they have been part of the coven? I’m sure we would’ve heard about them, unless they’re dead, too.”

Lizzie is quiet for a while. “No,” she starts, “Hope’s right. Siphoners _are_ exclusive to my coven, but the Geminis exiled all of them under the basis that they were natural abominations. Josie and I, we’re the first ones to be raised alongside magic. If they were exiled, then there’s a chance that they might not have died with the rest of my coven…”

“…and there’s a chance that one might still be out there somewhere,” Penelope finishes. Her heart races at the implication. There is a path after all.

Hope leans forward. “I can do a similar spell like the one I did on the globe, the one to track young supernaturals, but only focusing on siphoners. If one does exist…Lizzie, it’s your call. It’s your family we’re dealing with here, your future. Do you want us to chase this lead or not?”

Lizzie swallows and lowers her eyes, contemplating. Her fingers tap erratically on the armrest. Penelope sends out a silent plea towards her. _If there’s even the smallest chance that this is true…then at least do it for Josie, if not for yourself. Please._

“Alright,” Lizzie says slowly. “Alright. There’s no harm in doing the spell, right? Worst case scenario, we can’t find a siphoner, and we wait six years for me to prove you wrong. Best case scenario, we find a siphoner, and have them tell you that you’re wrong. I have the pleasure of seeing you two admit you’re wrong either way. It’s a win!” Her tone picks up at the end, clearly pleased, and Penelope rolls her eyes.

“Not sure how you came to that conclusion, but I’ll take it.”

“Okay then.” Hope hops off the bed and rummages through her drawers by the desk. “I should have one somewh – oh, here it is.” She produces a long rolled-up paper and unscrolls it to reveal a map of the world.

Penelope deadpans. “You seriously keep a map of the world in your room?”

“Well, it came in handy, didn’t it? Now shut up while I do the spell.” Hope lays the map on the carpeted floor and grabs a couple of materials, and then kneels while positioning them in the proper arrangement. “Lizzie, can you move behind me? The spell requires me to face southwest, and it’s weird having you stare at me like that.”

Lizzie stalks over to join Penelope on the bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest. Hope conjures a few spell scrolls and begins reading, eyes squinting in concentration.

Penelope watches Hope fiddle with a candle when she feels Lizzie leaning towards her. “Hey.” Lizzie’s breath tickles the back of her neck.

“What?”

“I want to ask you something.”

“About?”

“About your break-up with Josie.”

Penelope’s head whips around. “Are you serious? Now? ”

A “shhh!” comes from the floor.

“Are you serious?” Penelope repeats, whispering. “What do you even want to know? Did Josie not spend a month ranting about how I was Satan incarnate to you?”

Lizzie frowns. “No, she never said much, actually. And she never really spoke badly about you, even during the first week. Anyway, that’s not my question. I need you to tell me the truth, okay?”

“Um, okay.” This is the closest proximity she’s voluntarily been with Lizzie, which is new.

“When you broke up with Josie, did it, um,” Lizzie darts her eyes a fraction, “did it have anything to do with me?”

Penelope is taken aback. “Uhh…yeah, it did.” It’s so weird. She used to hate Lizzie for being so self-absorbed to even notice her own sister, but now, her heart twinges at the guilt in Lizzie’s tone.

 _It’s not like I want to be her friend_ , Penelope quickly assures herself. She’s just surprised that Lizzie has the capacity to be self-aware, that’s all.

Still, Penelope can’t find the urge to rub Lizzie’s involvement in their break-up in her face.

“It…wasn’t entirely your fault,” Penelope admits. “I wanted her to be so much more, but sometimes I think that breaking up with her wasn’t the right decision to make. I just got spooked by the Merge thing and acted too quickly.”

“I’m sorry,” Lizzie says honestly. “I know I can be selfish at times, but I’m trying to be – to be better. I know that Josie wants more attention for herself, but, I don’t know. We’ve been living like this for so long that neither of us are willing to make the first move. Whenever I do try to make things about her she always brushes me off and says that it’s fine, that nothing’s wrong and she’s happy for me. There’s this wall between us and I don’t – I don’t know how to show her that I do care.” Her voice chokes up, and she raises a hand to hastily wipe away a stray tear.

Penelope widens her eyes in surprise. Even Hope, who can clearly listen to every word they’re saying, doesn’t tell them to be quiet. Sure, Lizzie’s cried in public a couple of times, but always with tears of anger, not those of shame and regret.

“Lizzie…” Penelope is at loss of what to say. _You’re a good sister? It’s not your fault?_ There’s no point in sugarcoating things when Lizzie is already aware of her actions, and there’s also no point in digging it in, either. Lizzie is hurting, probably has been for a long time, according to her words. It never occurred to Penelope that Josie’s not the only one hiding things from her twin.

“Holy shit.” Hope’s voice breaks them out of their reverie, and Penelope and Lizzie both climb out of the bed to join her on the floor.

“Is that –,”

“It actually worked,” Hope says, disbelief coloring her tone. And there it is: a glowing yellow dot in the map, blinking in and out erratically. South, almost touching the border between land and sea. “New Orleans,” Hope breathes out.

“Why is it blinking like that? Did you do a different spell from the one you used on the globe?” Lizzie asks.

Hope shakes her head. “No, the spell is designed to pinpoint the magic displayed by a supernatural creature; in this case, a siphoner. I don’t know what’s messing with it, but there’s a siphoner down in New Orleans for sure.”

“We have an actual lead,” Penelope exclaims. “We _have_ to chase this.” She and Hope exchange grins, excitement blooming at the prospect of this information.

Lizzie, on the other hand, frowns confusedly. “That’s a fourteen hour drive from here. You’re not seriously suggesting we do a –,”

“Road trip!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the siphoner i'm referring to is valerie tulle. sorry if anything is non canon compliant, i'm pulling things out of the wikia since i've never consistently watched tvd and to.
> 
> if you spot any mistakes, please do tell me! i haven't had time to edit this thoroughly, so sorry if there's the occasional grammar switch or run on sentence. i'll edit later when i have the time. 
> 
> hope you enjoy :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a dynsfunctional road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the character development for these girls are off the CHARTS. also i ship hizzie now so bear with me on it.

They’re the most unlikely bunch to ever do a road trip together, but it kind of works, if Penelope is to be honest. There’s an awkward and mismatched energy flowing through the seven of them that’s just enough to keep everyone on their toes, meaning that no private conversation can take place without the others inadvertently listening in and offering their opinion on it. Penelope knows that, pre-Merge quest, the only real ties she has to the group is Josie, so she supposes that she’s playing the seventh wheel here, but the great thing about the entire predicament is that _everyone_ is a seventh wheel. They’re a deformed spiderweb of love, hate, platonic, and  supposed-to-be-platonic-but-really-isn’t relationships, which at least gives Penelope a semblance of power in their social structure instead of being completely left out in the dark.

Something heavy falls onto her left shoulder, a sign that MG has finally succumbed to the yawns he’s been spouting ever since they got in the car. Beside him, Landon’s head periodically bumps on the window in a sleepy daze, dead to the world. Hope is on the wheel and Lizzie for once isn’t complaining her head off for having to sit next to her in the passenger seat, so all is peaceful in the Saltzman family van under the early morning sky…except for the whispers coming from the back seat.

Penelope buries the urge to hiss _shut up_ at them for the fifth time. She knows that Josie is doing it on purpose just to annoy her, because Josie wouldn’t be all giggles and hushed whispers with anyone but wolf boy. Or at least she hopes that this is the case. Deeply, deeply hopes. Because if Josie’s actions have nothing to do with her at all, then it means that she is genuinely into Rafael, which is a situation that Penelope isn’t equipped to deal with yet.

She just wishes that Hope would drive faster so that they can finish whatever needs to be done and get back home as quick as possible, because she needs to sort out her feelings within the protection of her bedroom walls. She and Josie haven’t properly talked about what happened between them (Josie hasn’t talked to her at all, period), and looking by the way Josie has been sticking to Raf’s side ever since then, Penelope has an inclination that her ex is avoiding her. As if she doesn’t have enough on her plate already.

Hope still hasn’t decided whether it would be a good idea to call her relatives down in New Orleans or not and Lizzie is too preoccupied with coming up with answers should her dad calls as soon as he wakes up, which should be in an hour or so.

The three of them are already walking on a tightrope, and the presence of four additional passengers isn’t helping at all — if anything, it’s honestly a little disconcerting how eager the boys were to jump at a chance to skip school for a couple of days without even knowing the details — but it was the only way they could avoid arousing suspicion from their friends.

Their plan is seriously half-baked at best.

_“ – okay, so if we leave at five in the morning, we’ll arrive there at seven PM the latest, which gives us the whole night to find the siphoner. If all goes well, we can reach back here by the next afternoon and play it off as a little rebellious me-time to your dad, without him ever knowing that we drove to an entire different state.” Hope glances at the other two, map still tightly clutched in her fist._

_She’s nervous, Penelope can tell. This isn’t like their standard monster-hunting mission, they’re not tracking clues and chasing down a dragon or decapitating zombies. They’re following a hopeful wish and a shaky spell down an unknown end. The truth about the Merge is like a feather perched in perfect balance, and Penelope doesn’t know which side is about to tip over._

_“You’re really suggesting we drive down all the way to New Orleans? Like, you’re serious?” Lizzie demands. “This is crazy. What the hell am I going to tell Josie?” Her breath quickens, like she’s starting to hyperventilate._

_Penelope’s head shoots up at the last sentence. “Whoa, Josie can’t know any of this. It’s bad enough that you accidentally found out, we can’t drag her into this before we’re sure of everything.” Hope nods in agreement._

_“I know that, Park,” Lizzie answers, lacking the usual bite that appears whenever she mentions Penelope’s name, “I mean, how am I supposed to tell Josie that the three of us are going to New Orleans and spend a whole night together? It’s not like she won’t notice her sister, her ex, and her…friend being gone for two whole days.”_

_“I don’t like to say this often, but Lizzie’s right.” Lizzie’s eyebrows twitch at Hope’s words. “Josie’s perceptive enough to notice that something’s up, which means we need an excuse. A good one.”_

_The opportunity to break the news to Josie comes during lunch, when the rest of the group finds Penelope, Hope, and Lizzie already sitting at their usual table and, surely unfamiliar to the rest of the student body, holding a civil conversation._

_“Am I dreaming right now?” MG squints his eyes and extends an arm towards Penelope. “Are you three actually sitting here together or was the blood I had for breakfast laced with weed?” Penelope makes a motion to smack the new blood bag out of his hands and he immediately side steps away, hugging the blood tightly against his chest. “Not the blood, not the blood.”_

_To her credit, Lizzie perfectly assumes her regular persona, not a single trace of the earlier panic showing on her face. “Well, the three of us have some very important news for you. I know that we all don’t seem to…get along, so to speak, which is why we have decided to go,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “on a road trip together!”_

_Penelope’s face contorts into a grimace when she sees the others’ disbelief. Josie shoots her a questioning look and mouths,_ what?

_“That’s right! Hope is planning to go visit her folks tomorrow and I, being the humble person that I am, have decided to tag along in an ambitious attempt to repair our friendship,” Lizzie finishes with a pleased smile._

_MG’s fork is suspended in mid-air as he regards her with a skeptical expression. “You, Lizzie Saltzman, want to voluntarily go on a ten-hour drive with, and I quote, ‘the bane of your existence’. Am I high right now?”_

_“It’s fourteen hours, actually,” Hope corrects, unfazed._

_“Uhh, it seems like a pretty good idea to me,” Landon chimes in, digging into his lunch. When nobody responds, he looks up to see the rest of the table staring at him. “What? I mean, it’s never too late to repair a relationship, right? Even if it is with the bane of your existence.”_

_“Am I missing something here? Since when are you two willing to spend time with each other without dad forcing you to?” Josie demands suspiciously. “What’s going on?”_

_“Well, sister dear, I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf in my friendship with Hope, problematic as it were,” Lizzie waves her hands in emphasis, “and Penelope and I do have some issues to sort out as well. What better way to confront your differences than being trapped in the same car for fourteen hours?”_

_“That’s one way to put it,” Penelope mutters._

_“Penelope?” Josie sounds taken aback. “_ You’re _going too?”_

_Penelope can’t tell if her tone is laced with hurt or incredulity, or both. Her tongue feels heavy, and the way Josie is looking in her direction but not directly at her is causing her heart to stutter. She stumbles over the words as the rest of the table stare with varying levels of concern._

_Luckily, Lizzie saves her. “I think we’re_ all _trying to turn a new leaf, right guys?”_

_“And New Orleans? Really? You know dad’s not going to like that, especially with the Malivore thing and new monsters popping up all the time. You know that too, Hope,” Josie presses on. Beside her, Rafael whispers, “what’s the deal with New Orleans?” to Landon, who shrugs. MG helpfully answers, “Imagine Mystic Falls but like, every other person might be a supernatural creature.”_

_Hope sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Yeah…we know.”_

_“And?”_

_Penelope’s brain finally catches up. “And we’re going. Some of us aren’t that bothered with missing a couple of classes in lieu of having a little fun. You should try it sometimes,” she finishes with a smirk._

_Josie clenches her jaw and there’s a familiar fire in her eyes that Penelope recognizes. It’s the one that appears whenever she knows that she’s being kept out of the loop, the same one that Penelope used to see whenever Josie would slip into her room late at night, quietly asking for permission to stay because her mom and Lizzie are having yet another post-episode heart-to-heart in her own room. Josie hates not knowing answers, and Penelope has that lesson hammered in throughout the months after their break up._

_“I can have fun,” Josie says defensively. Rafael, Landon, and MG dart their eyes away. “What?”_

_“Nothing, Josie,” MG clears his throat, “I think it’s a great idea that you guys are willing to, um, put aside your differences. Even though it kinda came out of nowhere. But still nice, though!”_

_MG. Ever the peacemaker._

_“Yeah, Josie. Aren’t you the one who always says that Hope and I should stop fighting? And Penelope and I, too?” Lizzie points out._

_Josie relents at that, the tension seeping out of her body, and Penelope thinks that she might have bought it. She exchanges a quick glance with Hope in relief._

_But then Josie’s eyes light up and she blurts out, “well, what if I came with you guys?”_

_Penelope, Hope, and Lizzie simultaneously let out an, “uhhh.”_

_“I mean, someone has to make sure that you don’t kill each other, right?” When neither of them respond, Josie’s expression falters. “I - I mean, if you want me there.”_

_Lizzie and Hope hesitate, and Penelope feels a pang of protectiveness when Josie shrinks with every second that passes by in silence. She looks a little lost, as if she still can’t quite comprehend what is going on, and Penelope understands. To suddenly know that your ex, your sister, and your almost-friend have been conversing together behind your back must feel frustrating._

_Which is why the answer slips out of Penelope’s tongue before she can think any better of it. “Sure.”_

_Josie startles a bit. Clearly, she had been expecting an answer from Hope or Lizzie instead. “Really?”_

_“Yeah…I mean, if it’s okay with Hope, of course.”_

_Hope’s face scrunches in confusion. “What? Why me?”_

_Penelope really, really wants to roll her eyes. “Because we’re going to your house,_ remember _? In New Orleans?”_

_“Right, right. Yeah, my house.”_

_It’s amazing how one can be an amalgamation of three powerful supernatural species yet still lacks the fine skill of subtlety, Penelope marvels._

_“You sure you can handle being absent for more than three days a year?” she drawls._

_Josie sighs exasperatedly, and Penelope gets the inkling that Josie still doesn’t want to directly acknowledge her unless absolutely necessary._

_“Besides, are you two really sure that you can survive fourteen hours with Lizzie without me there? Fourteen hours?”_

_“Rude!”_

_“Josie’s coming,” Hope immediately announces. “I mean, not because of the…the Lizzie thing,” she side-eyes the blonde, who gasps in betrayal, “but, y’know, the more the merrier. Or so my Aunt Rebekah tells me. She’s always saying that I need to bring home some friends, anyway.”_

_Lizzie shoots her sister a mischievous look. “Well, Hope and I will probably have years and years of conflict to catch up on…so I guess you and Penelope have fourteen hours to talk. Right?”_

_There’s a pause in which Penelope resists the urge to smack the back of Lizzie’s head._

_Josie’s eyes widen. “Right, uhh…”_

_“Well, that’s settled,” Lizzie cuts off.  “This will be_ so _fun, you guys!”_

_“Yeah, fun,” Hope says, less enthusiastically._

_Penelope catches Josie looking at her and winks. Fourteen hours in a car plus the whole night together? This is going to be interesting._

 

_Penelope dumps her bag into the trunk of the ‘borrowed’ school van and spins around to glare at Hope. “Care to explain why exactly do we have three more stowaways with us?” Those very stowaways are currently tossing and catching peanuts with their mouths outside the van, probably as an attempt at breakfast since the dining room hasn’t opened yet. It’s five in the morning, for christ’s sake. She’s not equipped to handle boys this early._

_Hope sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. Josie came to me last evening and asked if Rafael could come, and you guys weren’t there and I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, and then it sort of spiralled from there. Rafael invited Landon, who invited MG, so…”_

_Lizzie throws her hands up. “Great. So not only do we need to come up with a new plan to ditch all four of them, we also need to actually call Hope’s relatives and ask if they’d like to host an impromptu dinner for seven supernatural teenagers.”_

_“Whoa, we absolutely_ cannot _do that.” Hope rakes a hand through her hair. “Look, as soon as I tell my family, they’ll get suspicious and call your dad, and if that happens then we’re done for. I can’t exactly out-lie thousand-year-old vampires.”_

_“Oh, the great Hope Mikaelson finally has something that she can’t do?” Lizzie says in a low, sarcastic tone. Normally, a fight would break out between them and end in a screaming match or Hope flat-out refusing to engage any further, but this time, Hope just smacks Lizzie’s arm, a small smile playing on her lips._

That’s a new development _, Penelope thinks._

_The sound of footsteps grow closer, and they all turn to see Josie come running down the steps, a backpack in hand. For a split-second, Penelope wonders whether Josie invited the werewolf just so they wouldn’t be forced to talk, and the beginnings of self-doubt starts to curl in her stomach._

_“Ready?” Hope calls out to the boys, who start clambering into the van. Out of the corner of her eye, Penelope sees Josie goes to the back with Raf. She sighs._

_“Tell me, why did we think that driving down to New Orleans on a school day without permission nor supervision was a good idea again?” Lizzie hisses, reaching up and slamming the trunk door shut._

_“Lizzie, that sounds exactly like something you would do,” Penelope retorts._

_“Shut up.”_

_“Whatever, I’m driving, so it’s on you two to come up with a new plan.” With that, Hope slides into the driver’s seat, the car keys jingling in her hand._

_“Shotgun,” Lizzie calls out._

_Penelope throws her head back and groans._

 

* * *

 

Lizzie’s legs are jittering like crazy. With six other possible witnesses to what is feeling like another breakdown and a One OK Rock song playing as the background music to her overcrowded thoughts? Not the best of her moments.

This is bad. Like, really, really bad. Worse than the time she accidentally flung her dad into the lake, because at least that was an accident and Josie was moments away from doing it herself. Now, she’s in a terrible position keeping a terrible secret from her sister, and they’re all in a car heading towards a potential truth-bomb that she’s not sure if she’s ready for.

_What if Josie doesn’t forgive me for keeping this from her? Do mom and dad know? Is this really the reason why mom’s been away all this time? Crap, are Josie and I really supposed to have a magic duel when we turn 22? That’s just batshit crazy, right? How is it possible that we’ve never heard of it before? And…is one of us really going to die? Like, DEATH? ACTUAL DEATH??_

Lizzie feels her breaths turn quick and shallow, and she digs her fingers into a thigh in an attempt to control herself. The intrusive thoughts are running through in a million miles a minute and it’s making her feel dizzy. Fuck, if she has an episode right here with everyone in audience, she’ll have to live out the rest of her days in Salvatore as a light-repelling bat. The sheer _embarrassment_.

The car feels hot. Or maybe it’s just her head? Either way, it’s hot. Like, suffocatingly so. Past the front window, she can see the road stretching into the horizon, spotted with two or three cars ahead of them. It’s barely seven in the morning, too early for people to be crossing the state border like they are. Her dad should still be asleep, and he’ll wake up soon to find…what? Seven missing kids and a hastily written ‘don’t worry daddy, we’ll be back tomorrow!’ note on his desk? God, she won’t have to wait six years for the Merge because her dad is going to _kill_ her when they return.

Hope’s voice pulls her out of the haze. “Hey, you okay?” She takes her eyes off the road for a second to glance sideways.

Lizzie’s anxiety recedes a few steps, trumped by pleasant surprise. _Hope noticed?_

“I’m fine. Your taste in music is so terrible it made me reevaluate all the life choices I’ve made that brought me here, right to this flaking leather seat with a spring that’s digging up my ass. So thanks for that.”

She expects Hope to scoff, turn back to driving, and let the silence wall up between them like it always has for the past sixteen years. Instead, Hope gives her a small, sad smile. “We’ll make it, Lizzie. I promise. Even if we have to fake our way there. You’ll get your answers.”

Something blooms in Lizzie’s chest right there and then, a feeling that she’s never associated with Hope before.

She wonders what it is. What it means.

“I -,” her eyes dart down to her feet, and the next words come out in a whisper. “Thank you.”

Hope doesn’t answer, but her gaze is clear and earnest and there’s a small smile playing at her lips, and Lizzie can’t stop that damn feeling from spreading throughout her body.

 

* * *

 

Hope drives for two more hours before she finally caves to the boys’ pleads for a bathroom break and agrees to pull up to the next gas station. There’s a small diner attached to it, and to nobody’s surprise, their group of hungry, sore, and restless teenagers unanimously vote to have a meal and stretch their legs for a little longer.

Penelope watches as the others pile inside, choosing to stay back and shake off the sleepiness for a couple more minutes. She’s halfway through a yawn when a hand rests on her shoulder. “Hey.”

“Lizzie?”

Lizzie takes a step next to her, looking straight ahead at the diner wistfully. It strikes Penelope how young she looks right then, with her walls down and the crease between her eyebrows faded away. Lizzie is always bursting with emotions and thinly-veiled insults and adult mannerisms that Penelope sometimes forgets that the twins are actually younger than her, just barely sixteen.

“She’s just using him, you know. I can tell, she’s doing it to make you jealous,” Lizzie says flatly. Penelope follows her line of sight and sees Josie and Rafael laughing slightly away from the others ordering by the counter. An overwhelming _want_ crashes through her and Penelope averts her eyes away, clenching her teeth.

“Or she’s actually moved on and actually likes him.”

Lizzie scoffs. “Please, those two have no chemistry. She’s forcing herself on him and he’s eating it all up, it’s honestly painful to see. I can’t believe it took having sex with him for me to realize that Rafael Waithe’s personality is as dry as the dog biscuits he snacks on when he thinks no one's looking. Josie is doing it on purpose, I can assure you.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it means that she’s willing to go out of her way to avoid me.”

“It also means that she still cares.”

Penelope closes her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Josie wants answers that I can’t give and she made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want to talk to me after the way our last conversation went.”

“And when has that ever stopped you? You never seemed to mind it during, oh, I don’t know, the last six months of our lives. Why are you giving up? Why now?”

“Maybe I’m just tired.” And she is. Penelope can feel the exhaustion settling in her bones whenever she has to hide about the Merge again and again and see Josie walk away with disappointment in her eyes. Every single time. “I hate keeping things from her. I wanted to tell her about this for months, even before our break up, just to make her understand why I did the things I did.”

“But you didn’t,” Lizzie says softly.

“It wasn’t my place. I didn’t even want you to find out, because as much as I used to hate you for making Josie feel like she needed to put herself second, it wasn’t fair to you, too.”

Penelope didn’t mean it as a shot at Lizzie, but the blonde still shifts her feet in place, the guilt evident in her wringing hands and wavering voice. “I’m just trying to make up for…for everything.”

“I know.” Penelope locks her eyes with Lizzie, wanting her to understand every word coming next. “I want you to know that I didn’t break Josie’s heart because I stopped loving her. I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing her to that stupid Merge.”

Right then, Hope pokes her head out of the glass door. “You guys coming?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right there,” Penelope calls back.

They walk inside together and the air between them feels different. Less charged, somehow, as if the tension has muted down into a quiet sense of mutual understanding. Penelope teases Lizzie about the salad she orders without malice, and likewise, Lizzie rolls her eyes without the usual amount of force.

Her and Lizzie Saltzman. Who knew pigs could fly, after all?

They scarf down their food quickly under Hope’s orders. When MG moans about wanting another burger, she calmly states, “I’d like to arrive at New Orleans before midnight, so if you guys could speed it up, that would be _so_ great,” to which everyone obeys without question. MG takes a petulant sip from the blood bag hidden under his shirt.

While Hope pays for their meal, Josie gets up to go to the bathroom and the boys play around with the table football set up on the other side of the diner. Penelope plays with her phone while waiting, scrolling past the text messages sent from twenty different friends about her whereabouts without opening them. She wonders what her so-called friends would say if she told them the truth, that she is currently 340 miles away from school on a road trip with her ex, her nemesis, and the prophesized tribrid; if they would start circulating rumours to capitalize on her absence and use it to push themselves up another rung in the social ladder.

She wonders when she stopped caring.

Then, three things happen in quick succession. Lizzie’s phone starts ringing, breaking Penelope out of her reverie. A second later, the blonde proceeds to drop her phone out of surprise, but apparently not before she accidentally swipes and accepts the call, because the third thing that happens is what they’ve been dreading the most.

“Hello? Lizzie?” Alaric’s voice rings from the floor. _Crap._ Lizzie looks at her in shared horror before she scrambles the pick up the phone. “Lizzie, are you there?”

“Hiiii daddy,” Lizzie says in a high-pitched, everything-is-fine tone. “Have I told you how much I love you? Because I do. Like, so, so much.”

Alaric’s sigh is painfully audible. “Where are you? And why do I have Dorian telling me that four witches are missing from his morning class?”

“Well, um…remember how you’re always telling me to put aside my differences with Hope? Well, you got your wish!”

“Just – where _are_ you guys?”

Lizzie mouths a panicked ‘ _help me_ ’ to Penelope, who scrambles for something to answer. They hadn’t counted on being confronted this early into their trip, and Professor Saltzman is definitely not going to like the truth.

“And where is Hope? She’s supposed to be the responsible one here. I can’t believe she went with you knowing that monsters might attack at any time,” he continues, his words dripping with disappointment.

‘ _Make something up_ ,’ Penelope mouths back, but Lizzie isn’t looking at her anymore. She’s scowling at the phone as if it bit her on the hand.

Her tone is hard when she responds. “Hope is busy. If you’ve got something to say, you can say it to me.”

There’s a few seconds of silence in which Penelope imagines the professor staring at his phone in utter surprise. “Well, um, okay, sweetie. Who are you with right now?”

“Josie, Hope, Penelope, Rafael, Landon, and MG.”

“ _What?_ The boys came with you?”

“Yeah…”

“Lizzie.” Alaric makes a frustrated sound. “Where are you? If you kids are out in the old mill or the forest then it’s dangerous! You’ll be vulnerable to attacks! Plus, you’re not allowed to ditch class, remember? Just come back to school now.”

Lizzie lets out a long exhale. “Yeah, monsters attacking us is definitely not going to be a problem.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re in a gas station in South Carolina on our way to New Orleans.”

Penelope’s eyes widen. ‘ _I said make something up!’_

Lizzie shushes her.

“New Orleans? _New Orleans?_ What the hell are you guys doing?! What were you thinking?!” His rising voice echoes through the phone speakers. “Lizzie, you cannot just steal a school van and drive five states away for fun! This is beyond irresponsible, I can’t believe you would do something like this.”

“Do what? Lie? Keep something from you?” Lizzie laughs, cold and devoid of emotion. “That’s rich coming from you, dad.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m here because of the Merge.” When her dad doesn’t answer, Lizzie presses on. “Ring any bells?”

“I don’t know what –,”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just tell me one thing: is it true?” Her nails are digging into her palm so tightly that her knuckles turn white. “Will it really happen to me? To Josie?”

Alaric sighs wearily. “Yes, the Merge is real. It happens to every set of twins born into your coven when they turn twenty two. Your mom – your birth mom – had to do it with your uncle when she turned that age. She tried to avoid it as best as possible but in the end, she had to give up her magic.”

Lizzie swallows. “You hid this from me for sixteen years? This is my future, goddammit, I deserved to know!”

She slams a hand down on the table. Penelope startles, then notices the boys looking at them curiously before going back to their game, clearly assuming that they’re having another argument. Hope’s gaze lingers longer, but then she turns back to cheering the boys on, walking to a position that mostly blocks the boys from seeing Lizzie and Penelope at the table together.

Penelope sends out a quick thank you to her ancestors that Hope managed to pick up on the situation in a snap.

“I know, sweetie, but your mom and I thought –,”

“Mom. Of course she knows too.” Lizzie tilts her head up and closes her eyes, her lower jaw slightly trembling. Penelope has never seen her this vulnerable before, all the sadness and betrayal weighing down on her slumped shoulders. “That’s why she’s in Europe, isn’t she?”

“She’s out there looking for a cure! We’ve both been searching for sixteen years and we haven’t given up yet! Everything we’re doing is for you and Josie. We’re just trying to protect you,” Alaric stresses.

“No, you could’ve included us in this discussion since the beginning.” Lizzie breathes heavily. “You think I’m not ready to handle it, don’t you? First you only brought Hope to monster recons, then you lied to me about the Malivore research and had Josie help you instead. You think me being – being bipolar makes me the weakest one.” Her voice breaks at the last sentence.

“No! That is absolutely not –,”

“Lizzie,” Penelope warns suddenly, sitting up alert. On the other side of the counter, Josie exits from the bathroom and walks towards the boys and Hope interestedly. When they’re all preoccupied by the game, Hope turns her head and shoots Penelope a ‘ _hurry up!_ ’.

“Penelope?” Alaric asks confusedly. “Is that you? Did you – did you hear everything?”

She freezes. Lizzie is blankly staring at her hands on the table, not bothering to answer him, so Penelope lets out, “uh, yeah, it’s me.”

“You know about this? Who else does?”

“Um, just me and Hope. Lizzie accidentally  found out from us. Josie doesn’t know, and we don’t plan on telling her,” she answers.

There’s a creak over the phone that sounds like Alaric leaning back on his chair in relief. “Good. Let’s keep it that way. Look, obviously there’s nothing I can say that would make all of you return back to school right now, but at least send the boys back. And Josie too, if it’s possible. If seven high-profile students go missing without a viable reason, then people will talk and ask questions that I’d rather not deal with today. Make them sit on a bus, an Uber, I don’t care. The less people who know, the better.”

“Yeah, we’ll try to do that, Professor Saltzman.”

“And Lizzie…stay safe, okay? Sometimes answers can hurt more than the questions.”

Lizzie’s stare is still blank but her hands are trembling now, and a vision of her bringing the gas station to the ground flashes in front of Penelope’s eyes. She grabs the phone off the table and says a quick, “okay, bye.” before ending the call.

“Well, that was…something else. But this is good for us, right? We won’t have them trailing behind us the entire time,” she offers tentatively. Lizzie doesn’t even acknowledge her.

Penelope sighs, then gets up and delegates herself to break the news. As expected, the boys protest loudly against Professor Saltzman’s order (with MG muttering something about nepotism, which earns him a backhanded slap on the chest from Josie) but relent when she low-key threatens to call him again so he can personally yell at them to come home. The problem of transportation, which Landon tries to argue for, is easily resolved when the waitress informs them of a bus heading to Virginia coming in fifteen minutes. In the end, there’s nothing that the boys can do but sit dejectedly while waiting for the bus to come, during which Penelope thanks her ancestors for the second time for giving them a convenient out in the shape of one Alaric Saltzman.

She’s watching Rafael trying to argue with Hope in a last-ditch attempt to stay with them when a hand taps her shoulder. It’s Josie. “Can I ask you something?”

“Oh, so I exist now?”

Josie sighs, almost patronizingly. “Don’t make this harder than it is, Penelope.”

Penelope scoffs. She sees the uncomfortable way Josie is gazing at her shoulder instead of meeting her eyes and the polite distance separating them. Josie is acting as if they are strangers instead of people whose lives used to rotate around each other, and this casual indifference hurts more than she would like to admit.

Still, Penelope has an image to upkeep. “Fine, what do you want?”

“Did something happen during that call with my dad? Why is Lizzie acting so strange now?”

They both turn to look at Lizzie sitting in the diner booth alone and hugging her knees. She’s so still, so quiet, so unlike the loud Lizzie who could talk anyone’s ear off in under a minute. _Her entire world just came crashing down_ , Penelope wants to explain. _She was holding out so much hope only for your dad to ruin it with one phone call._

“Thats - that’s for her to explain.”

“Well, in that case,” Josie takes a deep breath, “I’m coming with you.”

“Wait, what?”

“I can’t leave her like this. I know she wants to make up with Hope or whatever, but she needs me.” A millisecond later, Josie’s eyes widen a fraction when her own words hit her. “I mean –,”

“I know what you mean,” Penelope says gently. How does she not? The words ‘she needs me’ is what destroyed their relationship in the first place. But it’s different now, she gets it. Seeing as her friendship with Lizzie consists of taking shots at each other until the other person starts screaming means that she also has a weirdly deep insight to how fragile the blonde’s mental state is. “You should go be with her.”

The corner of Josie’s lips rises in relief. “Okay.” She bounds off towards where Lizzie is sitting, but then turns back and rushes out, “Thanks for understanding.”

Penelope doesn’t need to read between the lines. “Anytime,” she responds, and this time, unlike all the other times before when she had to bite back her annoyance at Josie dropping everything to be with Lizzie, this one is genuine.

 

* * *

 

The twins being underage and Hope being burned out by the first few hours of the trip means that the task of driving falls on Penelope, who admittedly has never had the need to drive herself anywhere before (that’s what being born into a rich family will get you) but damn it if she doesn’t want to score cool points with Josie, however lame that sounds.

She’s also glad for the distraction it brings. Having to pay attention to the road means that she can avoid delegating 100% of her thoughts to the girl sitting in the passenger’s seat, who hasn’t said a single word since they took off from the gas station two hours ago.

Her eyes flick to the rearview mirror and almost bursts out laughing at the sight. Lizzie is dead asleep with her entire body leaning on Hope, her head slotting perfectly on Hope’s shoulder. Hope doesn’t seem to mind, and when Penelope wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at her she just rolls her eyes and shifts her body straighter so that Lizzie won’t have a sore neck when she wakes up.

Penelope will _so_ tease her for it later. Just because they’re all beginning to become friends doesn’t mean their dynamic has to change.

She tears her gaze back to the road, but before that can happen, her eyes catches Josie’s wide ones for an awkward second before Josie snaps her head away, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment from being caught.

Despite Penelope’s budding camaraderie with the other twin, her situation with Josie is entirely different. She doesn’t know how to breach this thing between them without inadvertently turning the conversation into a verbal match. Talking is the mature thing to do here, but Penelope doesn’t really feel like being the bigger person and risk humiliation when Josie inevitably decides to shut her down. But the silence is so thick, and Hope and Lizzie, who are sitting just a seat behind them, already feels so far away.

Penelope clears her throat and reaches out for her phone, scrolling through her music library and trying to pick a song that is fun enough to mask how anxious she feels and doesn’t hold a lot of significance to her and Josie’s relationship, because that is seriously not something she is prepared to deal with right now. She settles for ‘GIRLI - Deal With It’ and the colorful, fast-paced synths begin curling in the air, making sure to turn the volume just low enough not to wake Lizzie up. The song is hard not to bop to so Penelope does just that, humming the lyrics and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.  The song is all dance pop and synth drops that lifts her mood and clears some of the awkwardness out.

She takes a quick glance at Josie, who is pointedly looking out the window but bobbing her head along with the music. They stay like that for the next three minutes until the song ends and another one starts, and Josie finally breaks her silence to playfully groan at the opening riffs of Mr. Brightside. Penelope grins and hands her her phone. A peace offering. Her heart stops beating for a second when Josie hesitates, but then she takes it and puts down the password to unlock it. Penelope tries her best not to beam at the fact that Josie still remembers her password after all this time.

A new song abruptly starts and when the intro comes in, Penelope’s breath catches in her throat. She recognizes the repetitive bassline and the boom of the kick drum all the way from two and a half years ago, back when she and Josie were nothing more than a one-sided crush on Penelope’s part. It was just before spring break of that year, and Penelope had held out hope that her mom would call to invite her back home for the holiday, never mind that she hadn’t called in over a year. The call never came, and Penelope was too proud to go home by her own volition and too heartbroken to admit that the daily screaming matches at home was probably a reason why her parents shipped her there in the first place.

She had been sitting in the library and holding back tears, gripping a book in front of her face to preserve some dignity from students passing by, when a girl wearing headphones sat down next to her.

“I know what it feels like to miss someone and not be able to do anything about it,” fourteen-year-old Josie said profoundly, and later Penelope teased her for stealing it off a Tumblr quote. “Sorry, I overheard my dad on the phone with your mom in his office, and I kind of pieced it together that she didn’t want you to come home.”

“Shouldn’t you be running around with your sister?” Penelope sniffed.

Josie ignored her and lifted the headphones from around her neck, placing it on Penelope’s head instead. “I’m into indie music these days, and this is my favorite song right now. I listen to it whenever I miss my mom or when my sister gets mad at me. It doesn’t make me feel any less lonely, but y’know, it’s comforting to know that someone else out there is just as lonely as you are.”

They stay like that for a while, Penelope letting herself be carried by the music and Josie smiling at her. She’s right, it doesn’t make her feel any happier, but the song manages to calm her down, at least.

“What’s it called?”

“Beach, by San Cisco. It’s good, right?”

After their break up, Penelope stopped listening to it because it sounded too much like a goodbye song, too much like letting go, but apparently forgot to delete it from her library. Now Josie is waiting for her reaction and it is so not the right time for teary nostalgia.

So, like the ostentatious person she is, Penelope unfreezes and dramatically sings along to the “oooohh” parts, one fist in front of her like a microphone and the other still on the steering wheel. Josie giggles loudly and Hope shushes them from behind when Lizzie mumbles something in her sleep. And Penelope thinks, _I miss you too_.

 

* * *

 

It’s seven in the evening when they finally pull up to a motel bearing a worn out ‘Welcome to New Orleans!’ sign in a gothic font. It’s not particularly the most convincing hospitality resort ever, but it’s there and it looks cheap and there’s nothing Penelope would like to do more than get out of that damn van.

“I was worried my lungs have forgotten what fresh air feels like,” Lizzie says, stretching her legs. She lets out an obnoxiously huge yawn that has Penelope remarking, “one would think that  being able to just sit and sleep in the car wouldn’t be so exhausting. Not that Hope and I have anything to say about it, of course.” Lizzie flips a middle finger at her.

“Why are we here again?” Josie asks, staring at the vampire bat decorations on the front door. “Couldn’t we just have stayed with your relatives, Hope?”

“Uh…I want it to be a surprise for tomorrow.” The girl seriously needs to work on her lying.

A lone employee greets them when they walk up to the receptionist desk. Hope is wordlessly appointed to take care of the check-in, being the only New Orleans native, and Josie roams around the black-and-red themed waiting room, looking at the wall of framed pictures that range from ancient and yellowed family photos to recent Mardi Gras celebrations. Meanwhile, Penelope pulls Lizzie aside.

“Hey, I know we didn’t get to talk about this earlier, but are you okay after that phone call with your dad? He dropped some truth bombs on you that couldn’t have been easy to process,” Penelope queries.

Lizzie puts her hands out in a ‘calm down’ gesture. “If you’re worried about me blowing up, you don’t have to. I’m working on compartmentalizing all my emotions into little boxes and shoving them to the back of my mind so I can deal with them later instead of right now. And it worked! I didn’t have an episode even after that disastrous conversation.”

“…that can’t possibly be healthy.”

“Well, it’s a coping method, so.”

“Whatever floats your boat, I guess.” Penelope pauses, then carefully continues, “Look, I just wanted to say that maybe your dad had a point –,”

“ _What?_ ”

“Hold on,” she interjects. “Listen. You had the right to know, that’s true. But imagine if you did grow up knowing about the Merge and its inevitability. You would have lived your entire life in competition with your sister. That would’ve ruined your relationship with her.”.

Lizzie opens her mouth to answer, but then Hope calls them over to the counter.

“Think about it, okay? You have a dad who would do anything for you. Don’t take that for granted,” she continues earnestly. Lizzie just nods silently.

“Okay, guys. I managed to book us two rooms for tonight, so we’ll have to pair up.” Hope side-eyes Penelope and Josie. “They only have double beds left, so…I mean, I’m down to room with any of you, if you guys have any preferences…” she trails off uncertainly. Her unsubtle attempts to avoid looking at the two makes it clear who is being addressed here. Lizzie looks comically in alarm as her eyes dart between Penelope and her sister.

Penelope shifts her eyes to Josie, who is frozen like a deer in the headlights, and raises an eyebrow. _Your call_.

It’s not like Josie would agree to share a bed with her anyway, she knows that, but her heart still sinks in disappointment when Josie looks away and says, “Lizzie, you’re with me, right?” Penelope convinces herself that she wasn’t even expecting anything in the first place, but the comfort is hollow.

Lizzie clutches her chest dramatically. “Oh, thank god. Hope, I know we’re starting to become friends but I don’t think we’re quite there yet. No offence.”

“None taken,” Hope says drily. “Well, that’s settled.” She tosses a pair of keys to Lizzie. “Penelope?”

“Coming.” She walks past the twins, refusing to make eye contact with either of them, and is about to join Hope on the staircase when Josie speaks up behind her. “Good night.”

Hope is already too far up to hear the soft farewell, so Penelope knows who it’s intended to.

She lets herself hope.

“Good night.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> josie and penelope skip around new orleans and come across a glaring act of foreshadowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! so i was gone for two weeks right after the last chapter went up, which is why i finished this one so late. anyway, hope you enjoy!

According to Penelope, there’s nothing worse than having to walk down three flights of hardwood stairs with hotel slippers on and praying that your feet won’t betray you and miss a step while you’re too busy rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. She does  _ not  _ need to experience one of those split-second fears of slipping on the stairs, especially when Hope Mikaelson is bouncing right next to her, fresh-faced and brimming with energy after her morning run. And then there’s her, grumbling under her breath about the abomination that are alarm clocks.

So she’s going to grab breakfast in a T-shirt and pajama shorts. Sue her. It’s the one time she gets to disregard her morning routine in favor of sleeping in a few extra minutes. Back at their small-town version of Hogwarts (minus the robes and the house system and all the things that make a magical boarding school cool), she has an appearance to keep up. Here, she doesn’t give a shit about what Hope and Lizzie think about the lack of eyeliner, and Josie has seen her plenty of times in the morning before.

Nevertheless, she side-eyes Hope’s perfectly put-together vibe with barely concealed envy. “How are you this preppy in the morning?” Penelope mutters. 

The other girl’s tone is way too bubbly. “Well, I have to start my days high because shit’s just going to go downhill from here. It’s a routine at this point.”

Fair enough. If that’s how Hope deals with the bullshit that life throws at them at a daily rate, Penelope figures that she can’t judge. 

She asks another question. “What are we going to say to Josie? We can’t just ditch her for the whole day.”

“Relax, I came up with a plan this morning while you were still snoring. Just play along later.”

They both enter the breakfast bar, which is empty saved for a couple of lone businessmen and a family picking food out of the buffet, and spot the twins quickly. Josie is digging into a bowl of yoghurt and Penelope’s heart skips a beat at the sight of her in jeans and sneakers. Sometimes she forgets that Josie dresses like a teenage girl’s gay awakening when she’s out of the school’s obligatory blazer-and-skirt combination. 

It’s been a while since she’s had a reason to see Josie dressed up casually, anyway. Penelope tries not to dwell on that. 

Opposite her, Lizzie is hunched over with bags under her eyes, munching on a croissant and not even bothering to notice the flakes dusting her pajama top. Penelope guesses that they had the same lightbulb about taking advantage of the morning and honestly, she’s just glad that she’s not the only one looking like the human personification of a wrinkled shirt. 

“Look who finally remembered to wake up,” Lizzie says drily as Hope and Penelope take their seats, carrying plates of waffles, bacon, eggs, and toast. 

Josie nudges her. “You’re one to talk. I had to drag you off the bed and I think you almost did a stunning spell on me in your sleep.”

“Did not!”

“Did too! I probably would’ve still been lying on our room floor if you actually had magic. Your subconscious is different degrees of whack.”

“Hey, that’s slander!”

“If I spell one twin to shut up, will the twin bond make the other do the same?” Penelope wonders out loud, barely managing to dodge Lizzie’s sharp elbow. “Jeez, that felt like being attacked by a tree branch.”

“Okay, okay.” Hope stops them from bickering even more. “Keep the family drama for when we get back. We only have a day at most before your dad freaks out and drives over here himself.”

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Josie asks, stabbing a piece of strawberry. Over her head, Lizzie shoots them a distressed look, and Penelope kicks Hope’s foot under the table to prompt an answer. 

“Well,” Hope says, schooling in her glare when Josie glances at her, “I, uh, called my Aunt Freya last night and we agreed to meet up by the Garden District. Less chance of getting in a fight with a werewolf that way.”

Penelope tilts her head, not sure where Hope is going with this. “Are we…coming with?”

“Nah, you guys should totally explore the city!” She turns to the twins. “You guys haven’t been here since you were kids, right? And Penelope, this is your first time in New Orleans, isn’t it? There’s tons of things to do here, you’ll love this place, I promise.”

“Okay,” Lizzie responds, not entirely buying it.

“Yeah,” Hope continues slowly, shooting her a pointed look, “You, Josie, and Penelope. Just the three of you together, being tourists and hanging out for the whole day and doing…other things. Together. Just the  _ three  _ of you.”

Penelope suddenly understands what she’s trying to say and isn’t sure if she likes it or not. She notices the moment it hits Lizzie, too. The blonde slams down her second croissant on her plate and crosses her arms dramatically. 

“Hope Mikaelson, we may have been adversaries for the larger part of our lives and I understand that you must have been dying for a payback after all these years, but there is no revenge more cruel than asking me to be a – a  _ third wheel _ ,” Lizzie demands. It takes Penelope all her strength to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Though it pains me to say this, accompanying you is certainly a lesser evil than having to stew in ex-girlfriend awkwardness for an entire day. And let it be noted that I am all about consent and refusing to partake in peer pressure, but Mikaelson,  _ please  _ let me come with you.”

Hope blinks at the force of Lizzie’s desperation. “Sure.”

Josie narrows her eyes. “Wait a minute, I think –,” 

Lizzie interrupts her with a clap of her hands. “It’s settled. I’m going to go up and change, and then we can go and meet your Aunt Fayola. Today is going to be  _ epic _ .”

“It’s…Freya,” Hope says uselessly as Lizzie bounds out the room. “Well, she’s excited.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Josie says under her breath, and Penelope collects enough of her dignity to huff in offence. They were on their way to being fine last night, weren’t they? Are they really going back to square one?

“You couldn’t have sounded more thrilled if you tried, Jojo.” Josie’s head whips at the nickname. 

“Yeah, Lizzie probably had the right idea,” Hope mutters as she stands up. “I’m gonna go wait outside. Have fun today. If you’re out of ideas of what to do, just check the honeymoon section of the brochures they display at the front desk. Bye.” She speeds away, following Lizzie’s tracks. Penelope’s jaw drops.

_ Bold move, Mikaelson. _

Josie is picking eggs off Lizzie’s plate, pointedly avoiding her eyes. She seems skittish, but she’s still lingering there for some reason so Penelope takes that as a plus.

“So…”

“Hmm?”

“The whole day together, huh? Just…you and me. In New Orleans. We might need to look up one of those ‘top 10 things to do in blah’ articles.”

“Well, they didn’t really give us much of a choice, did they?”

Penelope scoffs. Josie’s remark isn’t very different from what she usually says when they banter at school. Maybe it’s just the bitchy side of her that comes out when she doesn’t get enough sleep, but for some reason, this time Josie’s blatant disregard rubs her the wrong way. 

She knows that it’s better for them to stick together, that it’ll give them time to talk things out and at the very least she can prevent Josie from tagging along after the other two, but heat crawls up her skin and suddenly all she wants to be at that moment is  _ selfish _ . 

Penelope’s tone is hard when she speaks. “Look, if you really can’t stand me, then don’t force yourself. Go if you want, I’ll stay here in my room until the others come back. If spending the day with me is really that terrible, I’d rather you not bother.” She pushes her chair back so hard that the floor lets out a grating squeak. 

“Wait!” Josie hastily moves towards her. “Wait, I – I didn’t mean it like that.” Penelope clenches her jaw and stares ahead, but decides to wait her out. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Josie’s expression softening. “I just…I was surprised. That’s all.”

Fuck Josie Saltzman and her adorable pout. More importantly, fuck Penelope’s inability to resist said adorable pout. “Yeah, well, kind of felt like you meant it like that,” she mutters, looking down at her hands. Josie stays silent for a while.

“I’m worried about Lizzie.”

“Huh?” That was not where Penelope thought the conversation would go. 

“She couldn’t sleep at all last night. I heard her tossing and turning the entire time, she must’ve thought I didn’t notice. I thought she would tell me in the morning, but she pretended everything was fine when I asked.”

Penelope still isn’t following. “So?” Sure, she’s also concerned about Lizzie’s overall state of being, but it’s not exactly an icebreaker she’d expect from Josie. 

“So, she’s not the twin with secrets. I am. And she wouldn’t tell me what happened during that call with my dad at the diner, either. I just don’t understand why she’d keep something from me, even if it’s as insignificant as not being able to sleep.” Her face is neutral, but there’s a certain lack of emphasis in her tone that makes Penelope think that she’s not really invested in the matter at hand.

It dawns on her. For the second time that morning, she suddenly understands what’s being said between the lines. 

It’s not about Lizzie. It’s about Josie extending her an olive branch. 

“You know how Lizzie is. I’m sure she thinks that it’s not a big deal and not worth telling you about,” Penelope offers. “You don’t need to worry.”

The corner of Josie’s lips lift. “You’re probably right.”

“When am I not?” Penelope teases. “I’m going to go change. Wait for me here, okay?”

She passes Lizzie in the staircase, who slaps her on the shoulder and says, “If my sister comes back crying I’ll kick your ass all the way to Belgium.”

_ Why Belgium?  _ Penelope thinks, but Lizzie reaches the lobby and speeds past the front door without a glance back. 

As per Hope’s suggestion, she and Josie do end up poring over the leaflets stocked up on the receptionist desk. The French Quarter rings a bell in Penelope’s mind, and she recalls her mother saying something about the witch coven residing there, so they decide that it wouldn’t hurt heading there first. There’s no way that a supernatural would dare cause a scene under the broad daylight, but Penelope can’t deny that she feels a lot more secure staying in an area protected by witches, especially considering the recent spike in mythological monsters.

It’s a beautiful morning, one that makes you wistful of the better things life has to offer. The sun is shining brightly above them and the streets are bursting with life, and Penelope lets herself get lost in the sound of tourists bustling in and out of odd buildings and street tents each advertising something weirder than the last, the wooden clacks of horse hooves and the creak of the carts they pull, the shouts of tarot readers and spirit mediums and fortune tellers boasting their otherworldly talents. 

Beside her, Josie takes in a deep breath as if she, too, were trying to soak in the purple and pink neon lights and the rusty orange of old bricks seeping in from the buildings lining up the street. Something briefly tugs in Penelope’s mind, a small realization that there has been an uncharacteristic lack of questions coming from Josie, who seems to be rolling with their entire plan without being the slightest bit curious about what they’re really doing there or why Hope and Lizzie were so quick to ditch them in the first place, but she chalks it up to overthinking. Tries not to think about how much Josie might have changed since they broke up and how it might be possible that she can’t read her as well anymore.

She needs a distraction, one that involves them actually verbally communicating with each other and not silently glancing at each other and looking away when one of them gets caught. “Wanna get ice cream?”

“Sure.”

They glance at the endless selection of ice cream flavors with wide eyes, hands pressed against the sheet of glass separating them from ‘Pickled Mango’, ‘Bantana Curry’, ‘Rose Petals and Yoghurt’, and ‘Kale’, among other completely random flavors. Penelope almost chuckles when she sees Josie’s longing gaze and is again reminded of how sheltered the entire younger generation of Mystic Falls-born residents are. 

While the food at school is passably delicious, it still has to adhere to the general preference of a thousand students while following the nutritional guideline the parents set up when they realized that Professor Saltzman’s idea of a healthy meal consists of three cheeseburgers and a beer. Mystic Falls isn’t exactly a top culinary spot, and Penelope remembers feeling dismayed when she first found out that what is considered to be the town’s most adventurous cooking method is to add a lot of pepper.

Despite the crazy selection, she is nothing but a creature of habit, so she settles for pistachio while Josie orders two scoops of goat cheese and avocado. Penelope squints at it in distaste as the guy hands Josie her cone.

“That’s gross.”

Josie takes an exaggerated lick. “You’re just boring. And don’t you hate pistachio, anyway? I remember you saying you despised them.”

Penelope mentally slaps herself for forgetting that. She avoids the other girl’s questioning look by pretending to be too busy counting her money, which feels stupidly unnecessary considering their ice creams only cost four dollars. 

“Well?” Josie prompts as they step outside. 

Penelope feigns a shrug. “Maybe I’m just feeling as adventurous as you are.”

Josie raises an eyebrow and it takes fourteen seconds of staring at any other thing besides her face before Penelope succumbs.  _ Damn it.  _ “Okay, fine. I don’t hate pistachio ice cream, okay? In fact, it’s one my favorites. It’s just that during our first date, we got ice cream and you said something about hating the taste of pistachio and I didn’t want to disagree with you on our first date so I just said I hated it too. And then obviously I had to keep up with that.” The blush crawling up her cheeks is embarrassing, and she feels even more pathetic under Josie’s amused gaze.

“Wait, you held off on pistachio ice cream for almost two years because of one offhand comment I made? Why didn’t you just tell me the truth after?”

Penelope rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Because it’s lame. How was I supposed to keep my charm if you knew how fucking clichéd I was? 

“Whatever. You were  _ so _ whipped,” Josie teases, hand still clutching that goat cheese and avocado abomination. 

“Yeah, well.” Feeling a little brave, she gives her a cheeky smile and continues with, “I think I still am, actually.”

Josie’s smiles falls and Penelope’s heart stutters, wondering if she went too far. She thinks,  _ this is it. Things are going to get awkward again and we’ll go back to not talking. Back to square one.  _ It’s like clockwork at this point.

She’s not letting that happen again. So before the other girl can respond, Penelope quickly decides to change the subject instead.  “Any chance that you might be interested in exploring the best New Orleans has to offer? Starting with,” she reads the name of the nearest store, “the Boutique du Vampyre. Seriously? Maybe I should cop MG a cape or something. Make him dress like a real vampire, or what these people imagine them to be, anyway.”

Josie, to her relief, plays along, bumping her shoulder as they walk. “Places like these lose their magic once you’re one of the creatures that go bump in the night.”

“Oh come on, there must be something here that we can do. Like get our horoscopes read or talk to a psychic or do a palm reading. Something fun.”

“P, we’re witches. I’m pretty sure those all count as stereotypes against us.”

A small hand-painted sign hanging above a nondescript door catches Penelope’s eye, and she almost grabs Josie’s wrist out of excitement before stopping herself, letting her arm fall back to her side. “Hey, let’s do a tarot reading!”

“What?” Josie groans. “Come on, you know that stuff isn’t real. All those people do is charge $20 an hour to flip cards and pretend to read the future. Magic has nothing to do with that.”

“That’s the fun part! We can pretend to go along with it while making fun of them behind their back,” Penelope exclaims.

Josie doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t know…you know I don’t like messing with that kind of thing.”

Penelope puts her hands on her hips. “Three things, babe. First, you just said it has nothing to do with magic. Second, we both already know that it’s bullshit meant to bait in tourists who are desperate enough to shell out money for a few pretty lies. Third, you’re into practicing dark magic, but a few cards scare you? Come on.”

“Penelope,” Josie hisses panickedly, glancing around them. “That’s not – don’t say that out loud.”

“Relax, your dad isn’t here to put you in detention.” Penelope clasps her hands together and puts on her most convincing expression, the one that used to get her a make out session with Josie between classes even though Josie hated coming in late, all doe eyes and pouty lips. “Pleaseee. Besides, don’t you want to hear all the vague shit a middle-aged white woman has to say about your future?”

Josie sighs in defeat. “Fine. But one word about wealth and fortune coming my way and I’m out.”

“Deal.”

They enter the shop together, Penelope grinning in anticipation of all the things she can make fun of and Josie trailing behind her. The room is small and more modest than Penelope expected. Hundreds of tarot cards line the walls and there are ancient chalices, goblets, and oddly, menorahs neatly placed beneath thick, heavy curtains hanging from the ceiling. The entire place has an eerily wooden vibe to it and Penelope feels boxed in by the stares of hundreds of exaggeratedly-drawn French kings and queens.

She hears Josie gasp beside her and follows her line of sight. What she first thought was an indistinct pile of cloth in one corner turns out to be a young woman with her face covered by a thin white veil, sitting quietly. Her hands are clasped on a small, round table and her eyes closed in a prayer, but they snap open when Penelope clears her throat awkwardly. 

The lady breaks into a smile, throwing back the veil and revealing dark hair that stands in striking contrast. “Are you here for a tarot reading?”

“No, I wanted to buy that bronze platter lying on the floor,” Penelope says flatly. Josie elbows her. 

The woman glides past the remark and motions them forward. “Come here, sit. Which one of you would like a reading?”

Penelope doesn’t hesitate. “Her,” she says quickly, pointing to Josie. She struggles to keep a straight face when Josie gasps in betrayal. 

“You’re the one who wanted to do this!” 

“One Josie Saltzman, ready to receive the, uh, divination of her future. For better or worse.” Penelope stares dead into the tarot reader’s eyes, trying not to laugh. Josie huffs and crosses her arms. 

The woman, to her credit, takes it in stride. The corner of her lips turn up slightly, and she says, “alright, Josie Saltzman then. Usually I’ll ask the querent – that’s you, by the way – which part of their life they’d like me to read, but I’m assuming the romantic aspect is off the table?” She raises her eyebrows playfully, and Penelope’s amusement screeches to a halt. She instinctively looks at Josie, whose mouth is hanging open. 

“W - what?” Josie stammers. 

The woman raises her hands. “I’m just saying, I don’t think you’d appreciate doing a romance reading when, well,” she motions her head towards Penelope, “she’s right here.” 

“How did you know that?” Penelope demands, all traces of humor gone. Her head can’t wrap around the fact that this might actually have a semblance of legitimacy to it. 

“Magic.” The reader smiles knowingly. “Shall we get started?”

“This is capitalism at its finest,” Penelope mutters under her breath, but she watches as the woman procures a thick deck of cards and lays it gently on the table. Josie shifts in her seat, glaring at Penelope for throwing her under the bus.

“Let’s see. A three-card spread would be too simple…a Celtic Cross too convoluted for the matter at hand,” the reader murmurs, before finally coming to a decision. “Why don’t we do a horseshoe spread?”

_ A horseshoe what?  _ Josie mouths at Penelope, who shrugs.

The woman closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, cutting the deck into three smaller ones and begins shuffling them. “Josie Saltzman, think about your life. Picture it as if it’s a movie screen and you’re sitting in the audience seat, watching everything pass by as a stranger. What do you see?” Her voice adopts an eerily soothing tone and Josie, despite her earlier scepticism, unconsciously leans forward to stare at the motion. 

After what Penelope thinks is an absurd amount of shuffling and rearranging, the woman unites the cards into a single deck. Without opening her eyes, she draws a card from the top of the pile and places it face-up on the table, repeating six more times to create a V-like pattern with the card pointing towards Josie and Penelope.

The woman opens her eyes and stares at the cards with such a tranced expression that Penelope almost expects them to move, like a real-life GIF picture. The cards themselves hold no meaning to her, but there’s a picture of a tower being shattered by lightning and another one of a knight riding a white horse in old Renaissance-style drawings, and Penelope doesn’t have to be a tarot reader to know that they don’t exactly portray sunshines and rainbows.

“Oh dear.”

“What?” Josie asks worriedly. “Am I going to go bankrupt by the age of twenty five?”

The woman’s eyes are piercing, the furrow between her eyebrows betraying concern. Her hands hover above the cards, trembling slightly. 

“This is quite rare indeed,” she muses. “Each of these cards correspond with a certain aspect, whether it's the past, present, and so on. A simpler reading like the horseshoe usually reveals the cards as one part of the life, one at a time. Rarely do the cards create a storyline like this…and it’s a strong story indeed. Three Major Arcanas…the Queen of Cups…fascinating.”

“Is that supposed to mean anything, or…?” Penelope asks doubtfully

The woman taps on the top left card, the beginning point of the V. “This card represents your past. This is the Five of Wands. Usually it signifies conflict, aggression, a burning desire for violence. But this one is reversed, you see. Upside down, it has a different meaning. It’s quite common for people your age, really.

You grew up with a lot of inner turmoil and insecurities you never revealed to anyone. You hate conflict and have a tendency to avoid it, wanting to please other people and putting them before your own wants and needs. You spend a lot of energy pushing down your concerns and never addressing them in a healthy manner. Again, quite common with teenagers these days. You’re aware of this habit but are reluctant to make a change.”

Josie flicks an uncertain glance at Penelope. “Well, that’s not exactly untrue.”

“Jo, half of today’s American teenagers grew up depressed.”

Josie rolls her eyes, grumbling out a, “whatever,” before turning back to the reader. “She’s right, though. I’m hardly special for having insecurities.”

“That’s only the beginning, Josie. This next one,” she taps on the second card, two dogs howling at the moon on opposite sides of a river, from which a lobster emerges, “this one is the present, and it has a lot to say. The Moon is one of the Major Arcanas, trump cards which symbolize monumental aspects of your life. They punctuate the end and beginning of journeys, signaling major transitions that are about to come. The Moon in particular signifies a crossroads, a hesitation on which path to take because you are blinded by the haze, waiting for the moonlight to guide you and trusting the path it chooses.”

“I don’t really feel like I’m at a crossroads right now.”

“Maybe it’s what you’ll have for dessert tonight,” Penelope teases. If every card comes with an exposition like this, they’ll be finished by midday. She wants to groan at the thought, but then again, it  _ is  _ entertainment, and sitting there surrounded by heavy curtains and ancient liquid-retaining tableware isn’t so bad.  

After all, they could be out fighting vampires or worse, having yet another heated conversation resulting in one of them storming off and the other brooding for the rest of the day.

The reader continues. “The Moon usually means that there’s something important being hidden from you, causing you to be unsure of which path to take. A secret hidden behind your reach. Now, this doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. It can be something that you’ve been denying to yourself for a long time, or when paired with the Two or Ten of Cups, it can symbolize the love and affection your partner feels for you but isn’t quite ready to admit yet. But the third card worries me. The path you’re about to take might be a tumultuous one.”

Josie tilts her head confusedly. “I mean, secrets are kind of part of being a teenager, isn’t it?”

“It’s not just any petty secret. The Major Arcanas symbolize life-changing events which can raise or shatter your world. And remember, secrets don’t necessarily have to be bad. Sometimes we do it to protect the people we love.” For a brief second, Penelope feels the woman’s eyes boring into her before her gaze lightens and turns back to the cards.

The words click in her mind, and her heart drops into her stomach. 

The implication is almost damning if Josie had any semblance of the truth, and Penelope cannot actually believe that this eccentric young woman sitting in this small shop is able to out their secret right now if she wants to. The secret that is devastating enough that it bonded her with Hope and Lizzie and drove them here to New Orleans at the risk of Alaric Saltzman’s wrath. 

She doesn’t even know if Josie caught the exchange or not. She can’t even bear to look at her. 

“The Tower is a dangerous card to draw, especially for the future. Like lightning striking the tower into two, your life might be struck by a change so monumental that it would turn your whole world upside down. It will be destructive, yes, but also empowering. Once the fire burns away, all that you’ll be left with is a new sense of strength, forged by the chaos that forced you to rebuild yourself up.” 

“Do you always scare your clients like this?” Josie asks rather nervously.

“Rather dramatic, but it is what it is.”

Josie’s hands are starting to fidget the way she does when she’s unsure on how to proceed with a situation, and Penelope almost moves to take her hand before she remembers her place.

_ She doesn’t belong to you anymore,  _ her conscience whispers.  _ You lost that chance when you broke her heart.  _

Then, the feminist part of her thinks,  _ wait, relationship isn’t ownership.  _

“The fourth card tells us a little more about yourself. This is the Three of Swords, and like the first card, it’s quite common for teenagers. See the three swords piercing the heart? There’s a burden settled at the bottom of your heart that has never been properly acknowledged. You’ve experienced heartbreak, I presume?” The woman raises her eyebrows, and her grin widens in satisfaction when both Penelope and Josie’s cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“That’s a generic presumption to make,” Penelope insists. “You would’ve gotten that right with the majority of whoever you talked to.” Josie nods her head frantically in agreement.

“Not when the energy between you two is so obviously, astoundingly awkward,” the woman mutters, then clears her throat. “Anyway, I digress. A Three of Swords and a reversed Five of Wands is common with a certain type of people…I’m sensing either abandonment, codependency, or confidence issues. Were you abused as a child?”

Ouch. She hit the mark, but Penelope isn’t about to admit that out loud.

“My parents never raised a hand against me,” Josie says defensively. “They’re loving people.”

The woman looks at her sympathetically. “Sweetie, abuse doesn’t necessarily have to be physical. It can be neglect, too. Or emotional abuse, which is trickier to identify. Tell me, do you have siblings?”

“Uhh, one. My twin sister.”

“Do you love her?”

“Of course I do! What kind of question is that?”

“And how do you show it to her?”

“What?”

“How do you show your sister that you love her?”

“Well,” Josie hesitates, “We’ve been by each other’s side since we were born. She’s bipolar, so growing up I had to learn how to deal with her episodes. And her breakdowns. And outbursts. But, you know, being her sister, I always try to be there for her.” 

They’re treading into painfully familiar territory now, and Penelope can’t help but feel like the woman opposite her steered them this way on purpose. Like she’s testing how far she can push before the both of them snap. 

“Were your parents gone a lot?”

“Yes. My dad used to be a teacher and my mom…works overseas.”

“So whenever your sister had her episodes, you were the only one who was there to take care of her?”

“Wait –,” Penelope starts.  

“...yes.” She sees the realization sink on Josie’s face.

The woman nods. “Your parents left you to be an emotional crutch for your sister all those years and it took a toll on you, didn’t it? But you never complained out of fear that other people’s struggles might just be harder than your own and you don’t want to seem selfish.”

Josie clenches her jaw. “Did a single card seriously tell you all that?”

“I told you, the cards build on each other to tell a complex story. This one correlates with the next card, the Queen of Cups. See how her throne is right by the line where ocean meets sand? It means that you’re extremely intuitive and a good judge of character. Land symbolizes conscious thoughts and actions, while the water symbolizes the unconscious and subconscious realm. You straddle the line between both, acting as a mirror to other people and allowing them to reflect on the depth of their own thoughts.”

There’s a thoughtful pause, and she continues pensively. “You have a strong sense of identity; you’re fully in touch with your own sense of self and you know where your strengths and weaknesses lie. You have a strong inner voice, you just have to let it translate to your exterior self too. People can see that you have a good heart and they can’t look pass that to see the darkness within you.”

For once, they both have nothing to say. They know how true the statement is and Penelope feels her earlier doubt shrink, replaced by the uncomfortable, antsy sensation of being proven wrong. Not to mention her petty sense of frustration that thinks,  _ it took me six months to get to know her and this wannabe witch gets it in twenty minutes?  _

“There’s not a lot more to say about this one. The Queen of Cups is typical in emotionally perceptive people, and I’m sure I don’t have to encourage you to ‘speak up’ and ‘be yourself’,” the woman’s voice rises at the imitation, “and all that bullshit. You know who you are and what you have to do.”

“Now this one,” she taps on the sixth card, the one with the knight in dark armor riding a white horse, “this one is Death.”

Penelope recoils, suddenly remembering why they were in New Orleans in the first place. Josie leans against the table, her expression curious intersped with agitation like any other person would when discussing the abstract, intangible concept of their own death, and Penelope’s heart just breaks.

Death feels colder when it comes to someone else’s.

The woman lets out a small laugh. “Relax. People usually freak out over this one, but the Death card doesn’t literally mean that you’re about to die. It can actually be one of the more positive cards in the deck. It’s a powerful symbol of freedom and liberation, and can be a period of cleansing and transformation after the major change you’re about to experience as shown by the Tower. To put it simply, Death represents the transitional phase into a more mature future. Every change requires a sacrifice, and you might have to let go of something dear to you in order to achieve this next phase.”

“Great, another sacrifice. Just what I needed,” Josie mutters under her breath. “And the last card? Will it finally tell me what to do instead of spouting depressing predictions about my future?”

“Let’s see, the Two of Swords…paired with three majors…two powerful suits…,” the reader murmurs, completely immersed with her cards. “Future outcome…after hidden and external influences…but Tower and Death…”

She frowns. “Huh. That’s anti climatic. And just as I was getting invested in your story as well.”

“Excuse me?” 

“See how the woman in this picture is blindfolded and holding two swords pointing in opposite directions? It indicates a stalemate, when you’re faced with two decisions that are equally good or equally bad and neither of the outcome will be more appealing than the other. You’ll have to make the choice using your head, not your heart. It’s also possible that the woman has intentionally blindfolded herself to avoid having to make a decision. You could be avoiding an impending situation and trying to put it off as long as possible, but I wouldn't recommend that. The longer you ignore it, the longer the problem will pester you. A solution will present itself, but it might not be the one you like, and you’ll have to live with that.”

Josie frowns, at loss of what to say. “That’s…unfortunate.”

“I’m sorry, I wish it wasn’t this ominous. But I will say, though, the way the cards tied to each other so clearly like this…it’s as if they recognized the magic in you. A kindred spirit, if you will.”

Penelope exchange glances with Josie, who shares a similarly alarmed look. The amounts of hints dropped point to only one direction: the woman in front of them is a supernatural being, and since witches can register each other’s energies in close quarters, then that leaves her as either a vampire or werewolf, neither of which is a particularly pleasurable company to have.

The woman laces her fingers together and rests her elbows on the table. “Any more questions you’d like to explore?”

“Uhh, no. That – that’s fine,” Josie stammers, rising from her seat. “Thanks for the, uh, reading, but it’s best if we go now. Right, Pen?”

“Yeah. Also, um, I know we should’ve asked first, but please don’t say you charge by the minute. It’s the least you can do after not including any get-rich-quick predictions in her future,” Penelope damn near begs. She wants to leave as quickly as possible, but they’re still broke students and her heart nearly cries at the thought of forking over hundreds for what amounts to be an hour of card flipping. 

“Don’t worry about it. This one’s on me,” the woman says with a knowing smile, rising up from her chair. “It’s been a pleasure reading for you. I haven’t had one this clear since – well. It was a long time ago, anyway.” 

She opens the door and sounds from the street comes rushing in, breaking the bubble of silence. “I do hope you’ll consider what I said, even if you don’t believe that tarot reading deals with real magic. It’s best to stay careful, don’t you think?”

Penelope walks out in a daze. The pieces are starting to fit together. An ominous disaster, the chance to rebuild life from a new perspective, the difficulty in making a decision. It’s the Merge. It has to be. 

Then again, nothing the woman revealed was explicitly pessimistic, wasn’t it? In fact, she did say that they’ll find more than one solution, all equal in their desirability. 

A solution. God, why didn’t she ask for specifics? Should she just make up an excuse to Josie and go back alone, demand for a better insight so she can just cut to the fucking chase and save Josie’s life now? What would she say? What if the woman starts asking dangerous questions with answers she doesn’t know? What if  —

“Do you think Lizzie and Hope have killed each other yet?”

Josie’s voice jars her to reality, and Penelope steps aside to narrowly avoid bumping a stranger. “Huh?”

“My sister and Hope. Do you think they’ve torn each other’s hair out yet?”

Penelope snorts. “Knowing them, they’re probably making out in the back of an alley as we speak.”

Josie looks scandalized. “They hate each other!”

She shrugs. “Fine line.” 

They walk down the street in silence until Josie hesitantly asks, “what do you think she was talking about? The thing about the tower and this huge problem coming my way. Do you think it has something to do with Malivore?”

That almost elicits a laugh from Penelope. She had genuinely forgotten about Malivore and its cache of mythical monsters. There are bigger things at stake. 

“Forget about that,” she says gently. “Don’t stress about it, or else you’ll start seeing it in every little change that happens. Like, cognitive bias and all that.”

Josie looks way too impressed for Penelope not to feel slightly wounded. “You actually paid attention to Emma’s class.”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, wanna go to the park instead? I can’t stand watching all these tourists get scammed with faux supernatural artifacts and divination practices.”

“That didn’t bother you when you convinced me to buy those matching rings that were supposedly enchanted, remember?” Josie rolls her eyes, but follows. 

“Hah. Maybe you siphoned too much from it when you tried it on.” Penelope sticks her tongue out. “Plus, it didn’t end up mattering anyway. The only magic it did was turn my finger green.”

They take the street leading to the park and sit beneath a huge tree overlooking the lake. This part of the town is quieter, the thick air and steady buzz of insects lulling them into contentment. Not even two minutes in, a large golden retriever bounds over to them, taking no notice of its owner yelling in the background. The dog gives Josie a sloppy lick, panting in that simple-minded, happy way dogs always seem to do, and flops down on her lap. 

Maybe it’s because of what they did earlier, or maybe it’s just because the sight of Josie with a golden retriever would be too adorable for even the most unfeeling person, but Penelope suddenly feels hyperaware of the other girl. The twinkle in her eyes when she laughs, her long arms circling the dog, their shoulders bumping against each other, Josie’s knee touching her thigh. 

Penelope hasn’t been this close to Josie since their kiss on the twins’ birthday night weeks ago. 

She wonders if it’s possible to fall in love again with someone who you never stopped loving in the first place. 

The owner catches up to them and apologizes profusely, leading the dog away and leaving Josie pouting next to her.

“Aww, don’t be sad. I’m sure there are other animals who find you enticing enough to pack bond with you,” Penelope teases.

That earns her a smack. “Shut up. I still hold a grudge against my dad for not allowing pets at our dorms.”

“And if he had, your room would be an animal sanctuary right now and we would never get any sleep because of Lizzie screaming that a bird nested in her hair. It’s really a win-win.”

“Well, I think that life is too short to spend it without petting a dog or talking to a cat once in a while.”

Her choice of words send Penelope into a pause, and the words blurt out before she gets to realize how bad of an idea it is. “What would you do, anyway? If your life was short and you only had five years left to live. How would you spend it?”

Something flashes in Josie’s eyes for a millisecond, but Penelope chalks it up to her imagination when the girl tilts her head thoughtfully and hums.

“Five years, huh? I don’t know, I guess I’d just…do things that I haven’t had the chance to do until now.”

“Like what?” They’re close enough that Penelope can smell the faint traces of Josie’s perfume from yesterday.

“Spend more time with my parents, talk with more people at school, make a crazy bucket list. Use my magic to actually help people in need. Fix my regrets.” 

She can see the barely-there scar on Josie’s jaw. 

“What kind of regrets?” 

The heat between their pressed arms.

“There are the little ones, like not owning up to my mistakes, guilt tripping my dad into spending time with us, feeling jealous of certain people.”

“And the big ones?”

Josie’s fluttering eyelashes. 

“You know, making Lizzie feel like I’m tired of her, never speaking up for myself more often, and –,”

The slight tremble of her lips. 

“And?”

Penelope feels light-headed, as if their proximity is sucking all the oxygen out of her lungs. It’s been so  _ long  _ since they were this close to each other in good terms, enough time that she was starting to fear Josie would start to move on and they’d go back to being barely acquaintances, sharing quick, impersonal ‘hi’s across hallways as if part of her was never intertwined with Josie. It was worse, she had thought once, to be strangers than bitter exes. At least their lives would still revolve around each other in some way. 

She just wants to be forgiven. 

“I think…”

Josie’s soft brown eyes under hooded eyelids, looking at her with so much emotion that it mutes her other senses and all Penelope can see and hear and feel and think about is Josie, Josie, Josie. 

“Yeah?”

Penelope holds her breath. 

A whisper. “You’re my biggest regret.”

The faintest brush of Josie’s lips against hers, and Penelope recognizes the exact moment when her world explodes into color. She leans forward imperceptibly and feels Josie sigh, light and quiet, and thinks,  _ finally _ .

And then — 

The obnoxious dings of the iPhone ringtone.

Penelope’s eyes fly open and they spring apart in shock, Josie taking a second to realize that the sound is coming from her pocket and then fumbles with her phone.

“Crap, it’s Hope,” Josie says breathlessly, cheeks flushed, and Penelope likes to think that she’s above violence but right now she is about a hair’s breadth away from murdering the tribrid. “Hello?”

The panic in Hope’s voice is enough to make them sit up in alarm. “Come as fast as you can. I think something’s wrong with Lizzie.”

Josie grips the phone tightly. “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“I think – I think she’s about to have a meltdown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent like three days researching and writing about the tarot card part until it was too late to turn back since i had written like almost 2000 words, and i got so invested in the meanings of each card that i just went down that spiral. i know it makes absolutely no sense but i headcanon the woman as april young's daughter, just because she comes from a line of humans who are so involved with the supernatural world. 
> 
> the next chapter will focus more on hizzie and will forward the plot more, i promise. this one was just some necessary bonding filler.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hope and lizzie's side of the trip. the secret is out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back! you'll probably recognize one of the characters from tvd, i really wanted to make everything as canon as possible so i took characters from the universe who would logically be able to help. enjoyz

The erratically blinking dot brings them to a tourist trap of a cafe in the heart of the French Quarter, and Hope would have felt more stupid about blindly following an enchanted parchment like it was some sort of primitive Google Maps if she weren’t so surprised by the sight of the person waiting for them.

The woman flicks her sunglasses up and beckons them forward with one hand, iced coffee in the other. “Hope Mikaelson and Lizzie Saltzman. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Kinda creepy that you know our full names. Who are you, exactly?” Lizzie says cautiously, stopping a few feet away.

“My name is Valerie Tulle. I know what you’re here for.”

“And how would you know what that is?” Hope challenges, following Lizzie’s lead. She’s had her fair share of dangerous creatures hiding behind a pretty face and is really not up for a fight this early in the morning. Never mind that this face is stunningly attractive, all blonde hair and blue eyes and a sad smile. The popular-girl type present in every single teen movie ever that Hope would never in a million years admit to having an embarrassing crush on.

(She ignores the fact that Valerie Tulle kind of looks like Lizzie.)

“I know because I’m probably the only person left in the world – well, this world, anyway – besides your mom who can give you the answers you’re looking for.”

Lizzie looks stunned. “You know my mom?” She grabs a chair and sits down, eyes wide open in anticipation. Hope sighs, calculates that Valerie is probably smart enough not to pick a fight out in the open like this, and follows suit.

Valerie regards them with a tilt of her head. “I know more about you than you think, Lizzie. I cast the spell that revealed where the Gemini coven placed you and your sister after your mom died. I was there when Caroline found out she was pregnant with Alaric’s twins.” There’s a sharp intake of breath. “Unfortunately, I’ve never had the chance to meet you. Until now, sixteen years later.”

“Are you…a witch?” Hope asks uncertainly. “I mean, you look pretty young for someone who supposedly was there before Lizzie was born…”

“Hope Mikaelson.” Hope feels shivers running down her spine at Valerie’s gaze. “I’ve heard about you. The all-powerful tribrid, daughter of Niklaus Mikaelson and Hayley Marshall.”

“Nature’s loophole.” The words still feel bitter, even after all these years.

“Well, Hope, you’ll be glad to know that I’m just as much of a loophole as you are.”

“What are you?” Lizzie demands. “And how come my mom never mentioned you?”

“Because I’m a solution that she’s too afraid to consider,” Valerie answers, her voice grave. “You see, Lizzie, I’m a siphoner just like you. The difference between us is that I was born at a time where siphoners were seen as abominations by our coven, cast out and spat on for something that we were not able to control. Almost two centuries ago, I befriended a vampire who accidentally turned me, and the power I gained was so incredible that other abandoned siphoners followed, too. We were known as the Heretics.”

Hope sits back, stunned. “You’re a hybrid.”

“Not just any hybrid. We were considered dangerous, a threat to the Gemini coven and their magic elitism,” Valerie spits. “We retained our ability to siphon, which meant that we could draw power from our vampirism and practice witchcraft without an external source. The coven didn’t like that. Even though we could cast spells like any of them, the fact that we could still siphon even after becoming hybrids made them afraid.”

“What happened?” Lizzie asks softly.

“They hunted us down, one by one. Your uncle was one of us, you know. We were trapped together for a long, long time. He was a psychopathic murderer, though, and I was glad they finally banished him away.” Valerie tilts her head curiously. “You don’t know about that, do you?”

“I - I don’t know. I mean, maybe? I know something happened with my uncle, but I - I don’t remember,” Lizzie stammers. Hope glances down below the table and sees the blonde’s fingers tapping her leg in a jittery pace.

“Didn’t Caroline ever tell you exactly why she had to carry you? What made the Geminis move you and your sister from your birth mother?”

“Well, um, I know that my mom was dying so they placed us in my…well, my other mom so we could carry on the coven as the next generation of Geminis. Only it didn’t end up mattering because they all died anyway, so Josie and I are the only ones left. And since there was no one to teach us about our legacy…I guess the coven died with them.” Lizzie doesn’t look happy about having to relive the death of her people, and Hope feels a pang of sympathy for her. They hadn’t expected to go through Lizzie’s entire coven history when they set out for this.

Valerie sighs exasperatedly. “There are a _lot_ of holes in that story, but that’s not my place to tell you. But what I can tell you is this: as vampires, we gained the ability to stop aging. Your uncle didn’t realize what that meant because he turned too late, but I imagine that your mother has suspected the implications.”

A breath catches in Hope’s throat. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“What?” Lizzie turns her head, her lower lip trembling agitatedly in a way that is becoming oddly familiar to Hope.

“If one of you turn into a Heretic…you’ll stop aging. That means only one of you will turn twenty two when the time comes. You won’t have to do the Merge.”

“But I can’t,” Lizzie’s voice breaks, “I can’t turn into a…a _vampire_. Josie and I won’t be the same anymore. If one of us turns that means we won’t even be the same species anymore and we’ll stop being twins and one of us will grow older without the other and – ”

“Hey, calm down.” Hope places a hand on her shoulder worriedly. “Just breathe, okay?”

“Forgive me, I shouldn’t have told you this in the first place. You weren’t ready,” Valerie says sympathetically. “But I figured that I owed it to you as a siphoner and the last of the Heretics. We siphoners have to stick together, few as we are. I feel sorry for you. I always thought that it was unfair for the burden of leadership to only fall on twins.”

“It’s not fair,” Lizzie whispers. “The coven doesn’t even exist anymore. There’s nothing to lead. Why should we still do it?”

“I don’t know, Lizzie. I’m not even sure if you still have to do it, considering that your uncle is living an immortal life in another dimension. But he broke out before, which means that he can do it again. I think that your parents just don’t want to take any chances.”

Hope presses a hand to her temple. “Your coven is seriously messed up.”

Valerie nods. “It is. I haven’t been a part of it for a long time, but I still remember how they threw us out once we started embracing our nature as siphoners. Abandoned by our own family.” She sighs, then pushes her chair back. “It doesn’t matter now. What’s important is that you know the truth, whether you like it or not. I can’t help you any further.”

“Wait,” Hope calls. “Would you like to come back with us? You could talk with Professor Saltzman and maybe – maybe see what our school is like. It’s a safe place for people like us, for people like you.”

Valerie stands up. Her smile is sad and knowing, and Hope can see the weight of two centuries behind those blue eyes. “As much as I would like that, it’s better for me not to. I can’t imagine what the parents would say if they found out that a Heretic walks among their children.”

She takes one last glance at Lizzie and says, “If Caroline asks…tell her I said hi. And tell her that I’m happy to see what you and your sister have become.” Hope watches her back retreat into the crowd and vanish among the sea of tourists.

She wonders what it’s like, to live hundreds of years knowing that your family turned your back on you for something as insignificant as being born with different abilities. No matter how problematic her own family can be, they’ve always fought to be by her side, no matter what.

Then, it strikes her. The school isn’t just a place where supernatural kids learn to control their powers. It’s also a place where human parents get to dump their children and forget about their existence for ten months a year.

She waves the thought away. Now is so not the time for that conversation.

“That was…chaotic. But at least we got what we came for, right?” Hope muses, turning to the girl next to her. “Lizzie?”

Lizzie’s palms are clenched so hard that her fingers are bone-white. “What. The Fuck.”

“Hey, are you –,”

“It’s not only the Merge. She basically said that my parents have been hiding an entire part of my family history from me. Why my birth mom died in the first place. Why dad always refused to answer whenever we asked about our uncle. Why we don’t know any other siphoners.” The words come out controlled, like Lizzie is fighting the lump rising in her throat. “She said that my uncle was a murderer. He was a siphoner too, right? What if I – what if I turn out to be like him?”

“Don’t say that,” Hope says, alarmed. “You’re nothing like him.”

“You don’t know that. I just – I feel like I don’t even know who my parents are anymore. I don’t know what to believe.”

She’s been around Lizzie enough to know the warning signs of another episode.

“I’m going to call Josie and Penelope, and then let’s get out of here, okay?”

Hope makes the call and even through her agitated state, Lizzie manages to shoot a glare at her.

“How _dare_ you. Have some faith in me.”

“Lizzie, the only reason why everything around us hasn’t started smashing yet is because you haven’t siphoned anything. We need to move. Like, right now.”

Lizzie scoffs, but follows Hope’s lead as they make their way down the street. “Way to be totally insensitive in the face of an impending breakdown, Hope.”

“You’re not making this any easier,” Hope mutters. She spots a small, dark entrance next to a fairly empty restaurant and grabs Lizzie’s hand, pulling her down the alley. “Here. This should be safe enough for you to let it all out without causing the supernatural police to rain down on us.”

“You want me to process my emotions _here_?” Lizzie makes a face when Hope nods. “I should just throw myself into one of those garbage dumpsters. At least the smell of rotting seafood and leftover soup will mask my disappointment.”

Hope is seconds away from exploding in frustration. “Lizzie, just – focus, alright? Scream or smash things or do whatever it is you usually do to feel better.”

She expects a snarky response, but Lizzie’s shoulders just falls as she takes a shaky breath. “I can’t,” she mumbles.

“What?”

“I can’t. I don’t have magic.”

“What do you mean, you don’t have magic? What does that have anything to do with this?”

“Nothing,” Lizzie snaps. “Just ignore what I said, it’s not like you care anyway.”

That stings, but Hope pushes it aside and takes a step closer to the blonde, careful not to touch her. “Lizzie,” she says in a softer tone, “tell me what’s going on. What do you need?”

For a moment, she thinks that Lizzie isn’t going to answer. The girl is still avoiding her eyes, instead focusing on her fists clenched so tightly that Hope is worried she’s going to draw blood.

Lizzie shudders down a breath. “Emma and I tried working on internal exercises last year because dad was concerned about the maintenance bill racking up every time I had an episode,” she admits. “This one time, she told me to inflict my emotions inwards, not outwards. I couldn’t get out of bed for days. I just, I don’t ever want to go back to that place again.”

“Oh, Lizzie,” Hope says softly.

“Look, I’m fine. I’ve been getting better at compartmentalizing. I just need some time to breathe.”

They’re standing close enough that Hope can see every inch of Lizzie’s face even under the shadow casted by the walls around them.

This should feel weird. Sure, they’re on their way to becoming friends, and sure, the hostility between them has essentially boiled down into petty teasing and off-handed jabs, but there’s still ten years worth of history between them and Hope isn’t sure if she’s crossed that bridge yet.

Still, she can’t leave Lizzie to deal with her problems alone. If there’s anything that she’s learned after years of solitude, it’s that sometimes, all you need is someone by your side to tell you that you’re going to get through it.

Hope takes a step closer. “Don’t siphon from me, okay?” she whispers.

“What?”

Gently, she puts her arms around Lizzie’s shoulders and just. Hugs her. She feels Lizzie stiffen momentarily in surprise and half expects her to resist, but then the blonde relaxes, not quite hugging back but melting into Hope’s embrace.

It’s nice, Hope has to admit. She’s never hugged anyone outside of her family members before, but Lizzie is…tall, and warm, and her sweater smells like lavender detergent, and Hope can feel her chin resting on her shoulder.

“I’m so tired,” Lizzie mumbles. “I don’t like not knowing things. I don’t like that my parents kept this from me. And I don’t like that I don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” Hope says softly. “It sucks feeling like you’re not in control. And it’s worse when you find out that your parents aren’t who you thought they were. I get that.”

Lizzie chuckles. “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, it was supposed to make you feel like you’re not alone.”

The blonde pulls away, and though she doesn’t smile, Hope thinks that she can see the gratefulness shining in her eyes.

“Thank you. I - I needed that.”

Hope hesitates, wondering for a moment whether Lizzie would brush her off like every other time she tried extending an olive branch, then tries anyway. Lizzie is worth it.

“Look, I know that we’ve had our problems growing up, and I’m sorry that it took us this long to become friends. But I just want you to know that…that I’m here, whether you want me to be or not. We can be stronger together.” She prepares for the oncoming rejection and the slight disappointment that usually follows, but this time, Lizzie breaks into a friendly smirk.

“You’re like the flu, aren’t you? Always lingering, never really gone,” she teases.

“Wow. Way to ruin the moment.”

They stare at each other, grinning like idiots in a situation that they shouldn’t be grinning about, and Hope is struck by the realization that this is the closest and most sincere she’s been to someone outside her family in…forever.

Vulnerability isn’t something that she likes to show often, so she clears her throat and says, “should we, um, meet up with the others?”

Lizzie frowns distractedly. “Huh?”

“Penelope and Josie. They’re waiting for us.”

“Oh, right. Right.”

They reconvene in the parking lot of their motel, Lizzie looking exhausted as hell and Josie and Penelope blushing in a heavily suspicious manner that Hope isn’t ready to get into right now. There’s an immediate unanimous decision to go home led by Lizzie who immediately jumps into the passenger seat without another word, and at one point before they leave, Josie offhandedly comments whether she and Penelope should go say hi to Hope’s family. To Hope’s relief, Josie seems to be too distracted with the way Penelope removes her jacket to pay attention to the half-ass excuse she offers.

The trip home is uneventful, and Hope isn’t going to be the one who starts questioning why Josie and Penelope are shooting nervous glances at each other in the backseat, so she ignores them through the rearview mirror and focuses on the street, pressing the gas pedal a little harder and watching the speedometer slowly drive up. She needs proper sleep, damn it.

It’s half past midnight when they finally pull up at the school. Hope gently shakes Lizzie from her sleep and shakes Penelope a little less gently while Josie yawns tiredly behind her.

“So this is it, right? We’re done,” Lizzie mumbles sleepily, groping for the door handle.

Hope turns the engine off. “Let’s get some rest, guys. We can talk about this in the morning.”

The second they step inside the school, all traces of sleepiness evaporates from Hope in an instant. “Crap.”  

Professor Saltzman glares at them from his seat and snaps his book shut. “Crap is right. Crap is what the four of you are going to get when I’m finished reminding you _again_ about the importance of responsibility and dangers of being teenage supernaturals on the road.”

Lizzie groans and stumbles towards the staircase. “Dad, that makes no sense. Can’t we just go to sleep?”

“Elizabeth, get back here right now.” Alaric’s tone is controlled, but Lizzie must’ve picked up on the anger simmering beneath because she steps back, eyes wide.

“I want one of you to tell me exactly why you thought it was a good idea to go to New Orleans out of nowhere, and I want you to do it without bullshit.” He trains his eyes on Hope. “Hope, want to give it a shot?”

That’s so unfair. Why did he single _her_ out?

“Uhh, I’m good.” She side-eyes the other girls, all equally at loss for words.

“Josie? You want to tell me why you decided to act this irresponsibly?”

“Look, dad, it wasn’t a big deal. Hope wanted to go see her family so we all just kind of went with her,” Josie affirms. “I know it wasn’t the wisest decision, but I figured that we wouldn’t have missed a lot in class anyway.”

The irritation in his face subdues, replaced by confusion as he turns back to Hope. “Isn’t your family on holiday in Europe? You told me last month you won’t come home for Easter this year because the house will be empty.”

Hope freezes. She forgot about that.

Penelope swivels her head. “You forgot to mention that part,” she says through gritted teeth.

“We um, uhh…” Hope stammers, scrambling for an answer. “Someone help me out?”

“Don’t pretend you forgot about our conversation yesterday, dad,” Lizzie cuts in, her tone hard. Hope looks at her, confused, but she notices Penelope slightly nodding along. “You hid about the Merge from us, I think we deserve a some lenience.”

Alaric’s face morphs from surprise to fear before finally settling on defeat, and sighs into his hands.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Josie asks uncertainly. “Pen?”

Penelope shrinks under her gaze. “I don’t think that it’s really my place to answer,” she replies softly.

“For the love of God. All of you, in my office. Now.”

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, Penelope should’ve realized how bad of an idea it was to keep Josie out of the loop, especially after Hope and Lizzie came inside it.

Like, terrible in epic proportions.

The only thing that kept her going was the single spark of hope that her friends would be able to find a solution that would put an end to everything, and then it would just be a matter of explaining the story to Josie. She would be hurt and angry, sure, but she’d understand that Penelope was only trying to be sure of everything before telling her. After averting the Merge, they would have all the time in the world to talk it out.

She desperately wants Josie to understand that, but she can’t. Not when Josie keeps avoiding her gaze, scratching the arm of her chair instead.  

“Start from the beginning,” Alaric sighs. “Which one of you found out first?”

“I did,” Penelope answers, and the hurt and betrayal in Josie’s eyes when she looks up causes her to swallow. “Your wife was supposed to come visit, but she cancelled last minute. I - I wanted to cheer Josie up by finding something about her coven, something to help her connect with her people, so I ended up searching in the library. And then, uh…”

Alaric raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

She hopes to God he won’t expel her after this. “I broke into Do - Professor William’s office and found the registry. I read the entry about the coven and the Merge curse.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Four months ago.”

“Jesus.” He rubs his temples in exhaustion. “And how about the others?”

“Well, I told Hope because she was the only person I thought could help me figure out what to do, and Lizzie caught us when we were in the library the second time I went to find it, about a week and a half ago.” She glances at Hope, who takes the hint and adds, “I used the supernatural tracking spell on a map, and it brought us to New Orleans.”

“Wait, how did you know to go there? What tipped you off?”

“I narrowed the spell down to siphoners because we figured that they were the only people who could give us answers,” Hope explains. “A few dots showed up on the map, but one was different from the rest. It was blinking weirdly and seemed to glow brighter than the rest, so we took a shot and followed it.”

“To whom?”

“A woman named Valerie Tulle.”

He sits up in surprise. “Valerie? You met her?”

“She knew a lot about me, not just about our coven,” Lizzie says accusingly. “You never told us about her.”

Realization dawns upon Alaric’s face. “That’s why her dot was weird. She used to be a siphoner, and now she’s a - a –,”

“A Heretic,” Lizzie finishes for him. “A vampire and witch hybrid. We know.”

The information barely registers in Penelope’s ears. Josie looks so lost and confused, and she instinctively moves to place a comforting hand.

“Don’t,” Josie says quietly.

Penelope’s hand falls. (Her heart does, too).

Lizzie’s voice wavers. “She told me everything. About our history as siphoners and what happened to them. How the Heretics came to be.”

Alaric raises a hand to stop her. “Your mom and I already discussed that, honey. We’re not entertaining the idea.”

“But what if it’s the only way? You know that we’ll have to Merge when we’re twenty two. Turning into a vampire prevents one of us from having to do that,” Lizzie insists.

“Lizzie, your mom and I are looking for a solution, okay? Just leave that to us. We’ve been searching for sixteen years, we’re not going to stop now,” her dad says earnestly.

“I’m just saying, there’s a real chance that I might have to turn into a Heretic. I don’t want to turn into a vampire hybrid just to avoid some dusty curse that no one remembers. That’s crazy!” Lizzie says, voice rising.

“Hey, being a hybrid isn’t that bad,” Hope defends.

Penelope adds, “plus, your mom is a vampire, too.”

Alaric looks unhappy, but this time for a completely different reason. Namely, a disapproving one. “Sweetie, you just insulted a third of the school’s population, but I’ll let it slide. And you’re not going to have to do that, okay? Your mom is still in Europe looking for a better solution, one that doesn’t require you to give up anything, least of all your mortality.”

Lizzie opens her mouth to retort, but the sound of a chair scraping the floor cuts her off. Josie stands from her seat, her jaw trembling. From the way Hope, Lizzie, and Professor Saltzman do double takes, Penelope guesses that they momentarily forgot about the girl’s presence.

She almost laughs at the irony. They’re only here now because four months ago, she made a silent promise to make people notice Josie more.

“I - I…” she clenches her fists. “I’m going to go.”

“Wait, Josie –,” her dad starts.

“I’ve heard enough,” Josie says calmly. She strides out the room and closes the door with a soft ‘click’ without looking back.

“Shit, I forgot she doesn’t know,” Lizzie breathes, exchanging guilty looks with her dad.

Penelope leaps out of her seat and runs out the door without hesitation, ignoring Hope’s calls. She catches up to Josie easily and reaches out to grab her hand, but the other girl spins around and yanks it away.

“I can explain –,”

“Don’t bother.”

Penelope takes a step back at the coldness of the words. “Listen, I was trying to protect you –,”

“By lying to me for four months? The entire time we were in New Orleans? How was that protecting me?” Josie spits.

“Look, I didn’t tell you or Lizzie about the Merge because I didn’t want to make a big deal over something that I wasn’t even sure was real or not, okay? Your sister found out on her own, and even then we were still doubting whether the curse still applied or not. I didn’t even know what Hope and Lizzie found out until just now,” Penelope says desperately.

Josie’s voice turns even more furious. “Don’t you think I’ve connected the dots? You found out about the Merge four months ago, the same time you broke up with me. It wasn’t a coincidence. If you weren’t sure, then why did you do it?”

“I was still scared. I didn’t have any way of proving whether it was true, but I thought - I thought that if I didn’t do anything, you’d die, Josie. I wanted you to have a chance in winning the Merge. I was going to tell you, I swear. I thought that once the others found a solution then everything would be fine. You have to believe me,” Penelope pleads.

Josie lets out a dry laugh. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not mad that you kept it from me.”

 _What?_ “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not stupid, Penelope. My parents kept it from us for a reason, and I understand why. I even understand why _you_ kept it from me. But that’s not what hurts,” Josie says, her voice rising. “You think I’m going to lose, don’t you? You didn’t think I could win, which was why you kept wanting me to stand up for myself all these months. You didn’t have faith in me!”

Penelope’s heart drops to her stomach. “That’s not _true_ –,”

“But it is. You’re just like everybody else, Penelope. You think that I’m just this scared little girl who’s too afraid to get out of Lizzie’s shadow. I don’t need you to hold my hand! I just needed you to be there for me. It never occurred to you that I might have been strong enough to handle it.” She wipes away a stream of angry tears.

“Josie, stop.” How did she jump into so far of a conclusion?

“And what’s worse is that you lied to me the whole day.”

Penelope crosses her arms defensively. “I wasn’t lying, I wanted to talk to you. That part was real.”

Josie closes her eyes. “God, I can’t believe that I thought we were actually getting better and you were just distracting me the whole time,” she sighs.

Penelope gets a nagging feeling that she needs to end this right now before everything turns even worse and their – relationship or friendship or whatever it is becomes unsalvageable.

“Can we just talk about this in the morning? We’re both obviously really tired right now and - and at this rate we’re going to say something we’ll regret.”

Josie shakes her head, stepping away. “Don’t bother. You didn’t say anything for four months, I’m sure you can go for another day. We’re done.”

Something about the way Josie walks away into the dark corridor feels like a terrible sense of finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was inevitable for josie to find out, lol. i know that she would feel betrayed about the others keeping it from her, but imo she would feel more hurt about penelope immediately assuming she'd lose because she'd more or less understand why they didn't tell her about the merge at first. also, she wasn't really upset at her parents when she found out in the show, just kind of like dad you should've told us and >:( @ lizzie


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> josie keeps avoiding her, so penelope resorts to drinking her brains out and catfighting with a vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! sorry this came out so late, my exchange year is almost ending so i had a lot of stuff to do.
> 
> i get comments asking why posie isn't as front and center in this story as what they expected it to be, and i just want to say that i wrote this fic to flesh out the characters and their relationships with each other since that usually takes a backseat to the monster of the week problems in the show. posie will always be the main relationship here but since the story is mostly told in penelope’s pov and like, obviously her life doesn’t *only* revolve around josie, i want to explore the parts that we never get to see in the show. (it’s how i cope with penelope deprivation. sue me.)

The clock ticks a minute closer to eleven and Penelope tries to contain her leg from bouncing too hard out of anxiety. She’s in Advanced Maths, a class that’s usually more tolerable than the rest, but her book is devoid of any notes and nothing the teacher has said in the past one and a half hour has successfully managed to lodge itself inside her head.

Josie is sitting in the front row, strategically placing herself in front of the teacher so that no one would dare try pass her a note or whisper something in her ear. It’s a smart trick, but it means that Penelope has a direct view of the back of her head, which when added to the anxiety that’s been growing inside her since last night equals to her feeling restless as fuck. She sees Lizzie shoot her sister worried looks once in a while, and it troubles her that Josie might have not came back to her own room last night for Lizzie to be acting so concerned. 

The second the bell rings, Penelope rises from her seat and tries to catch Josie before she leaves, leaving her things strewn across her desk and shoving the kid blocking her way.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” she says nervously. Josie doesn’t even spare her a glance. 

“Look, I have some things that I need to explain and –,” the rest of her words die out as Josie walks past her and out the door, head held high. 

Penelope wants to punch something, and it might as well be the few students sending her pitying looks. “Scram.” They disperse just as quickly.

She considers the likelihood of Josie hexing her on the spot if she just runs up to her now, but then Hope and Lizzie slide over to her and she deflates, watching Josie’s back retreat down the hallway. 

“That was a familiar scene,” Lizzie says drily. Hope shushes her. 

“Be nice, Liz.”

Penelope groans. “She won’t talk to me. I’ve texted, called, borderline stalked her but she keeps avoiding me.”

Hope nods sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation, I think that Josie’s been avoiding me too.”

“It’s really not.”

“Yeah, Josie’s  _ definitely  _ avoiding me,” Lizzie chimes in. “Things haven’t been this bad since, like, forever. I haven’t talked to her since last night.”

“What happened? Did she come back to your room?”

The blonde sighs. “No, my room was empty when I got there last night. I couldn’t find her at breakfast either, and you guys saw how she came in late. She  _ never  _ comes late to class.”

“We should’ve told her,” Penelope breathes, closing her eyes. The words have been echoing in her head all night, keeping her awake. 

“Hey,” Hope says gently, “We still made the right decision. Josie knowing about it earlier doesn’t make a difference in the larger scheme of things.”

Penelope opens her mouth to answer, but then MG rushes past them in such a hurried and shady fashion that the three of them narrow their eyes in shared suspicion. 

“Halt, Count Chocula,” Lizzie barks. The boy freezes in place, and before he can continue his escape down the hallway, they stride towards him and block his path. MG shrinks from the triple glares shot his way.

“Are you going to beat me up? You look like you’re going to beat me up. Please don’t,” he pleads, back pressed against the wall.

Hope rolls her eyes. “Chill, dude. Just…tell us what you were doing last night. Not in a weird way.”

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything. I stayed in my room all night. Josie didn’t come to me.” 

Penelope narrows her eyes. “We haven’t said anything about Josie.” MG’s eyes shift back and forth as if trying to plan out an escape route and Penelope leans in threateningly. “Talk, Greasley.”

He holds a defiant stance for a few admirable seconds, but then reluctantly backs off. “Jeez, fine. She knocked on my door at, like, two AM this morning and asked if she could stay for the night. My roommate’s in the infirmary right now so I let her in.”

Lizzie looks at him contemplatively. “You’re really easy to break, you know that?” she comments.

MG puffs up his chest. “I’m a pacifist.”

Penelope waves impatiently. “Then?”

“She told me what happened between you guys. And what you were doing in New Orleans, too. Dude, I can’t believe you strung me and the guys along for that. That’s just messed up.” He shakes his head. 

Lizzie smacks his chest with the back of her hand. “Might I remind you that you strung yourself along. No one told you to ditch class for two days and go on a road trip with us.”

Hope raises a hand. “Hold on. What exactly did she say?”

“Something called…the Merge, I think? A curse on twins from her coven, or something like that. She was mostly pissed that you kept it from her. She called you guys, and I quote, ‘fucking Judases sent from high heaven.’”

Hope grimaces. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, wasn’t her best moment.”

“Anything else?” Penelope demands. 

The vampire eyes her wearily. “Josie wasn’t just angry, P. She was mostly sad. And hurt. She didn’t have to say it, but it must’ve sucked knowing that your…friend and twin sister and ex have been lying to you the whole time.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Hope mutters. 

“I’ve never seen her like that, guys,” MG says, concern coloring his voice. “She didn’t cry or anything. The way she talked…it was so blank, like she was still trying to process everything. I’m worried about her.” 

Penelope’s stomach drops to the floor. “If she would just stop acting like my presence repels her for a second -,”

MG shrugs. “Look, that’s between the both of you. Y’all need to fix this, I don’t like seeing my girl sad.” The three of them watch him walk away into the horde of clamoring students.

“He’s right. We can’t just stand around waiting for Josie to forgive us. Lizzie, you’re her sister. Try to talk to her,” Hope urges.

The blonde pinches the bridge of her nose. “God, I’ve had enough shouting matches with my dad. I can’t handle another one with Josie. And the worse part is that we don’t even know where to go from here. The Merge is a dead end, I don’t have anything to soften the blow.”

“We fucked up big time, didn’t we?”

“Whatever, I need another nap,” Lizzie grumbles. “Don’t be surprised if I miss all my classes today. See ya.”

Despite the predicament she’s in, Penelope still manages to catch the odd sense of endearment shining in Hope’s eyes as she watches the blonde walk away. 

Penelope nudges her. “You sure like them broken, don’t you?” she whispers conspiratorially.

Hope waves her off, her cheeks hinting red. “Shut up. It’s not like that.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious,” Hope insists. “Nothing’s going on.”

“Mm, sure.” The skepticism in her voice makes Hope throw her hands up in defeat.

“I’m out of here. Lizzie had the right idea, I think I’m gonna ditch and sleep in for the whole day,” Hope mutters, trudging along.

“Saltzman’s not gonna like that,” Penelope calls out to her, ignoring the curious heads turning to watch them. 

Hope gives her the finger without looking back. “Saltzman has better things to do than be a helicopter parent. Give me a break, Park.”

Penelope shakes her head and grins, walking to her next class. She’s barely halfway there when it strikes her that all her study materials are still splayed all over on her study desk in her room, left there haphazardly the night before their impromptu trip. It totally slipped her mind this morning.

WIth a heavy sigh, she turns back and heads to the dorms. She has to bring those materials to class lest she desires the teacher’s irrational wrath regarding the irresponsibility of teenagers, so there’s really no point in pointing out that she can easily share with a friend. 

Her mind floats back to Hope and Lizzie, and the corners of her lips turn up in amusement. They’d look cute together, equal forces of manic feminine energy thrumming with power capable of bringing down buildings. At least something good came out of their trip to New Orleans, Penelope muses. It gives her a small comfort to know that there are at least  _ some  _ aspects of their lives that didn’t entirely go to shit after that. 

Someone brushes past her and it’s enough to break her from the distraction. “Hey, watch where you’re going -,”

“Sorry,” the person says at the same time, and both of their heads snap up simultaneously . 

“Josie.” she breathes, then immediately panics when the girl rolls her eyes and continues walking. “Wait - hey, wait.”

Josie turns around and raises an eyebrow, and it shocks Penelope enough that she takes a step back. 

She regains her senses and the words come rushing out. “Can we talk properly? Please? I just think that maybe if you’d listen -,”

“Penelope, stop.” Josie’s voice is raspy, as if the sheer effort to talk is leaving her exhausted. “I just - not now, please.”

“Look, about last night, and this morning -,”

Josie closes her eyes and gives a small shake of her head. “I’m sorry about the way I acted before. It was rude and maybe a little undeserved. But I’d appreciate it if you leave me alone right now,” she says, monotone and devoid of emotion. “I just don’t feel like talking about it.”

Penelope bites her tongue as she watches her walk away for the second time that morning. Her nails are digging into the flesh of her palms so hard that it’s a wonder that she hasn’t drawn blood yet, but she barely feels it. Something behind her ribcage is tightening, and the pressure that’s spilling over feels so suffocating that her toes instinctively curl in frustration. She knows how to deal with a Josie who’s angry, who’s hurt, who’s scared. She doesn’t know how to deal with a Josie who has caved so far into herself that any attempt of reaching out simply slips off her skin.

She stomps inside her room and slams the door shut. It’s times like these that she willingly wavers her disbelief in any omnipotent deity out there to thank them for giving her a single room. It gives her the freedom to launch the nearest book at the wall without any shame. 

The book lands with a sad thud on the floor. Penelope shakes the anger off and moves to gather her classwork from the desk, but the sight of something unfamiliar causes her to draw a sharp breath. 

There’s an envelope sitting on top of her notes. The red seal, stamped with a distinct crest of a roaring lion and a cypress, sends shivers down her spine.

If her coven is sending letters officially addressed to her, then that can only mean one thing.

She tears open the seal and skims the paper, her stomach curling with contempt at every sentence.  _ With the death of our beloved Elder…we call you to return home to recommence the glory of our coven…preserve and practice our rituals and traditions…train under our senior witches…once you become of age… _

Penelope snorts. She can read between the lines and it’s downright pitiful. Her coven is losing younger witches to the modern temptations of having an actual life in the real world, and now they’ve come begging for her to come home and be the magical equivalent of a junior assistant. 

A thought nags on the back of her head. Her coven may be tactless, but they do have a point. Where will any of them go after they graduate? It’s not like there’s a shortage of students here, so the older kids will  _ have  _ to leave at some point. College sounds so far-off, and they’re not exactly falling over themselves for students with no extracurriculars and ‘leadership roles’ to speak of, whose roster of studies include ‘Practical Uses of Magic’ and ‘Avoiding Detection and Dealing with Getting Caught’. 

Sure, the school will probably fake some grades and write standard stellar recommendations for everyone, but still. It’s  _ college _ . She’s never put real thought into it, always assuming that she can always fall back on using a persuasion charm or have her parents pull strings to get in, but right now, the future seems to be looming over her. 

For a moment, Penelope considers it. Leaving. Going to college. Going back home. Travelling the world. Going  _ anywhere _ . The school will be nothing more than a memory of a place she spent her formative years of adulthood in, filled with melancholic recollections of people who had a fleeting impact on her life, some more prominent than others. Her life has revolved around the school and its people for so long that she forgets, sometimes, that this life will end soon.

She thinks about Josie. She thinks about heartbreak.

If it were only a month ago, Penelope would’ve thrown the letter in the trash without hesitation, but this time, she glances at her nightstand and leaves it there.

Maybe Lizzie had the right idea about ditching, after all.

 

* * *

 

News about a party at the old mill trickles down the social ladder, and Penelope hears about it a little later than she normally would. Naturally, she goes. The only way she’ll be able to give Josie the space she clearly wants is by distracting herself with alcohol and petty gossip whispered between sharp tongues and curious ears. 

It kind of feels like regression, but whatever. She’s allowed to fall back on old habits now and then.

The party is in full swing when she arrives, shivering slightly in a leather jacket and combat boots. Penelope quickly spots her clique by the drinks table and walks over to them, feeling her shoulders loosen between the bass pounding underneath her feet and the low buzz of chatter in the air. Someone whoops loudly beside her; it’s Jed, two bottles of vodka in hand and a wild look in his eyes that suggests a painful hangover tomorrow morning. 

Kara hands her a cup of who-knows-what and she downs it in one go, grateful for the immediate burn searing her throat. Her ears catch on familiar names being thrown around by the rest of her friends and she tunes into their conversation. 

“Listen, right. If any of you leak this, I  _ will  _ cut a bitch’s throat. Kaleb told me that he’s been drinking blood from those townies at weekend nights and, get this, he said that they taste, like, fucking delicious. I might actually go with him next time,” Isabel sniggers, and the rest of the group groans.

Sophia makes a disgusted face. “That’s gross. You’re bound to get an STD that way.”

“Unlike the rest of you, we’re already dead, Soph. No STDs coming our way.”

“She has a point, though. You are what you eat, aren’t you? What if drinking townie blood leaves you intellectually stunted?” Amelia snickers, refilling her cup with a worrying amount of clear unidentifiable liquid.

Carly rolls her eyes, the tips of her fangs peeking behind her lips. “You hunt for roadkill once a month in the forest. You’re in no place to preach about unhealthy diets.”

“Clearly, this leaves us witches superior,” Penelope jumps in, mischievous smile in place. The other witches give her high fives, and the rest of the girls boo loudly.

“Witches suck. All they do is say words that I don’t understand. Vampires are where it’s at,” Kara yells, eyes crinkling behind her glasses and swaying on her feet.

Lena elbows her. “Your girlfriend is a witch, asshole.”

“Sorry, babe.”

Leah butts in skeptically. “Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea, Is. You know what drinking human blood does to vampires. It’s dangerous.”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t see why we should keep ourselves from getting stronger. Besides,” Isabel waggles her eyebrows suggestively, “I heard MG tried it and he almost went full ripper.”

Penelope is in her fourth cup now, but that doesn’t stop her from pointing a wavering finger at her friend. “You leave Milton alone. Don’t come near my son with your dirty little claws.”

Isabel sniffs. “These are acrylic, bitch.”

A bunch of boys yell for them to join their game of beer pong and they shrug and agree, forming a loose circle around a large broken-off piece of the mill’s wooden walls. One of the wolves from Jed’s pack lays out seven cups on each side, but when Penelope takes a quick glance of what’s in them, she blanches. 

“We’re playing this roulette-style,” he explains. “If the ball lands in one cup, you gotta finish all of it, no matter what’s inside.”

“What’s  _ in  _ there?”

He points to each of the cups. “That’s vodka, two of those are rabbit’s blood that we got from the kitchen, that one has a bit of the witches’ potion that Jake copped from his practical class this afternoon, those two are red bull and tequila, and that one’s like, orange juice. I think.”

Everyone recoils in disgust. “Oh come on. Blood, really? That gives vampires an advantage,” Sophia protests. 

“Orange juice makes us constipated. It’s just as gross for us as blood is for you guys,” Carly chimes in. 

Penelope raises both hands. “I’ll just watch. There’s no way I’m drinking rabbit blood tonight.”

“Aww, afraid you’ll miss out on some action later? Siphoners aren’t into blood, are they?” Isabel says in a sing-song voice. 

The rest of the girls watch them uncomfortably as Penelope narrows her eyes. “Shut up, Isabel,” she hisses through clenched teeth. 

Another plus of the alcohol. It dials up her sensitivity to embarrassing levels.

The corner of Isabel’s lips rise in a sneer, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. She turns to the crowd with a smile, her long, black hair whipping behind her. “Whatever. I’m in. Who’s playing with me?”

Penelope watches Isabel and Leah go on one side of the makeshift table and two werewolf boys go on the other side. Someone conjures a ping pong ball and the game commences. Isabel goes first and her ball lands on vodka, which Alex, one of the wolves, eagerly downs. His partner Joey throws the ball next, but just before it’s about to enter the rim of a cup, Leah whispers a misdirection spell out of the corner of her mouth and the plastic ball bounces uselessly on the forest ground. 

“That’s cheating,” Alex protests indignantly, but Isabel only shrugs.

“It’s fair play when it comes to our powers. No harm no foul.”

The wolves use that as a cue to use their brute strength and coordination to smack the ball out of the air each time, and Isabel uses her superspeed to throw the ball faster than anyone can properly see, vampires excluded, while Leah mutters spells to stop the ball in the air. The game morphs into more of a who-is-the-stronger-species display of abilities, and Penelope can’t help but grin when Isabel’s reflexes aren’t quick enough to stop Joey’s ball from landing in the orange juice.

An hour later, they change pairs and Kara excitedly drags a reluctant Lena in, facing off against Carly and another vampire. Penelope takes another sip from her cup, but frowns when nothing reaches her lips. It’s empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill,” she mutters to deaf ears, already walking away. Something catches her eye between the trees, and for a second she thinks she sees a flash of Hope’s hair. 

She waves the thought away. Even prior to their newfound friendship, Penelope can say with confidence that Hope would never be caught dead in a party like this. In fact, none of her friends seems to be here. Lizzie, who normally thrives off of social gatherings like this, is nowhere to be seen, and MG seems to be absent as well. Landon isn’t here either, and Rafael…

Penelope falters. Her vision is a little hazy from the alcohol, but there’s no mistaking Josie and Rafael sitting near the bonfire. Josie is holding a bottle of something that looks suspiciously like what Jed was swinging around earlier and takes a huge swig. Rafael looks uncomfortable by the display, and Penelope feels an undeserved sense of triumph at seeing them just sitting awkwardly with each other, not talking. 

Josie’s eyes meet hers, and a breath catches on her lips. The vodka in her system is making her feel fuzzy beneath the skin and everything in her peripheral vision turns slightly off-focus. It feels like she’s underwater and her senses are muted, except her eyes are wide open and Josie is all she sees. 

Josie holds her gaze as she takes another swig straight from the bottle, and the uncharacteristically blatant display of recklessness causes Penelope to tug at the collar of her shirt, everything to do with the sudden heat blooming on her cheeks. 

Then, Rafael leans over to ask a question and Josie’s eyes drop, breaking the stare, and continues to pointedly stare at the fire while listening to him. 

Great. The one time Penelope gets to make Josie look her in the eye and it’s under the heavy influence of alcohol surrounded by people who would love to tear into their conversation. No, she has to do this properly. Sober and in private, without Rafael coming in to cockblock them every fifteen seconds.

Future Penelope is going to hate her for refilling her cup to the brim, but Present Penelope needs to not think. Then she can pretend that the burn aching in her chest is from the liquid sliding down her throat and not something that’s been stewing there since morning. 

The game is over when she returns. Her friends are mostly scattered around and she spots Kara with one cup in hand and licking blood off her lips while Lena stares at her, mildly disgusted but also a little horny. Isabel turns when she approaches them, and the slight curl in her lips causes Penelope to stiffen under the scrutiny.

“What?”

The vampire’s eyes alternate between her and the bonfire, and Penelope doesn’t like the expression on her face. “Are you really going to let wolf boy there steal your girl?”

“She’s not my girl anymore,” Penelope mutters darkly. Isabel’s tinkling laughter tickles her ears.

“Yeah, and thank god for that, right?” She probably means it as a rhetorical question, but Penelope takes offense anyway and demands, “what the fuck do you mean by that?”

Isabel spreads her arms open. “Oh come on, P. We all knew you could do better than Saltzman.”

“Excuse me? Why the fuck are you so concerned about my relationship status?”

The vampire actually sounds sincere. “Look, she’s barely a witch anyway and we all know it. It was painful watching you follow her around with puppy-dog eyes when you can do so much better. Just my opinion.” 

“Seriously? I don’t want to hear this from you, parasite,” Penelope spits. She immediately feels guilty for using the slur when Kara’s face turns upset and Carly shoots her a dirty look, but then Isabel’s eyes darken and the grin morphs into a sneer. 

“I’m just looking out for you, P. Rumour has it you’ve been hanging out with the freak show squad. Hope Mikaelson? Really? I’m supposed to believe that you and Miss I’m-Better-Than-Everyone-Else are suddenly buddy-buddy now?”

They’ve come face to face, and though Penelope is faintly aware that the wolves from the game and other nearby people are staring at them, her vision turns red and she has to physically restrain herself from smacking the shit out of the vampire’s smug expression. 

“If you bothered to remove your head from your self-absorbed ass, maybe you’d know that - shocker - people are different when you get to know them. And guess what? You’re not even half the vampire Mikaelson is, and she hasn’t even turned yet,” Penelope snaps.

Isabel snarls, veins straining against her neck. “And how much of a witch is your girlfriend, then?”

Penelope looks at her in utter contempt.. “If you could for one second stop spewing vitriol about my ex-girlfriend and her friends, whose names have no business leaving your dirty lips in the first place, then maybe you’d understand that I don’t give a single fuck about your so-called ‘opinions’, which we all know are just thinly-veiled excuses for you to talk shit about someone who often doesn’t even deserve it. So if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather not sit around for whatever crap you’re going to say next.”

She storms off, leaving Isabel stunned behind her, and for a second when she turns around she sees Josie curiously looking at the commotion. But Penelope’s nerves are going haywire right now, so she continues stomping out of the forest and power-marches into her room, not even bothering to remember that it’s already past curfew. 

It takes her two hours to fall asleep, but when she finally succumbs, it’s to the memory of Josie’s sad eyes by the flickering light of the bonfire.

 

* * *

 

Someone bangs on her door in the dead of the night, and whoever is doing it only succeeds to make Penelope shrink further under her covers. 

The person outside continues banging on the door and it takes everything for Penelope to finally roll over and groan out, “what?”

A muffled voice asks, “Can I come in?”

Penelope grunts in response, not even bothering to open her eyes.

“Dude, I need you to come with me.” Hope’s voice grows closer until she’s standing right by the bed. “Come on, wake up.”

“Why are you banging on my door and barging in in the middle of the night? I need my sleep,” Penelope grumbles.

“...I was knocking with a reasonable volume. And it’s ten in the morning.”

“...oh.”

She sits up and blinks the sleep out of her eyes, shaking her head awake. Hope leans on a hip and looks around in interest.

“You know, I’ve never been in your room before.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“It’s very…minimalist.”

“Mikaelson, if you woke me up to comment about the artistic layout of my room, I’ll personally kick start your vampire genes right here, right now.”

Hope rolls her eyes, though it’s good-natured. “Professor Saltzman told me to call you. He wants to talk to us, probably about the Merge or Malivore or something. Or maybe how we’re getting suspended after our stint a few days ago. Be at his office in ten minutes, yeah?”

Penelope hums in confirmation. She grabs a clean pair of her uniform from the closet and is about to go change, but Hope is still lingering awkwardly by the door, looking like she wants to say something. 

“Were you at the party last night?” Hope starts.

“Yeah. I thought I saw you there, actually.”

Hope scrunches her face up. “Unlikely. I was watching Killing Eve all night.”

“Sounds more like you.”

“Anyway,” Hope hesitates, “I heard that you got into a fight with Isabel Kabra. And that…you stood up for me at, um, at one point.”

Penelope shrugs nonchalantly. “She was talking shit and I did what I usually do. No biggie.”

“Still…thanks.”

Hope is  _ so  _ socially awkward it’s concerning. Penelope has the sudden urge to sign her up for a public speaking class. “Whatever. Don’t be weird about it. Now get out unless you want to see me changing. Lizzie won’t like that.”

Hope gives her the finger and steps out the door. “Eight minutes,” she calls out. “Get your ass moving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me n my indomie goreng sobbing in the corner


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> did anyone forget about malivore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: rape, skip through the scene where penelope's in the library alone

The second Penelope opens the door to Professor Saltzman’s office, she stops dead in her tracks.

Hope and Lizzie are already waiting inside, standing in the midst of books ripped straight out their shelves, splinters of broken furniture, and research papers carelessly splayed all over the floor. Considering how much of a neat freak their teacher usually is, stepping into a room that looks like every single crevice inside it has been turned inside out is quite frankly, very concerning.

The office is _trashed_ , as if someone had taken a sledgehammer and swung it around while blindfolded. She can barely even see the carpet underneath the disarray.

“What _happened_?” Penelope asks incredulously, ducking past a long piece of wood lodged straight into the wall. Her confusion grows when she realizes that it probably belongs to the broken chair missing its legs lying near Hope.

Alaric rubs his temples and downs the glass he’s holding. “Another one of Malivore’s monsters happened.”

“Jesus, did one of the werewolves wolf out in here?” She joins Hope and Lizzie by the upturned desk, carefully stepping over old, leather-bound books scattered on the floor, then pretends to squint at the blonde. “Did _you_ happen here, Liz?”

Lizzie trains her eyes at the ceiling. “Be the better person, be the better person,” she chants. Hope pats her on the shoulder.

“That’s the spirit.”

“So, what are we here for?” Penelope asks, blowing a kiss at Lizzie’s middle finger. A sudden thought hits her like a brick and she spins around to face Alaric. “Hey, is this an interrogation? Am I on the suspect list? I’ll have you know that I have better things to do than trash around the headmaster’s office, no less.”

“Like what, drink your weight in alcohol and get jealous at the sight of your ex with another person?” Hope comments drily.

“You said you weren’t at the party!”

“I wasn’t. Sophia told me what happened when we were lining up for eggs at breakfast this morning.”

Lizzie’s face scrunches up. “There was a party?” she demands, crossing her arms petulantly.

“I forgot about breakfast,” Penelope grumbles at the same time. Alaric winces at the small commotion and quiets them down.

“Listen, this is serious. Whatever did this is potentially the most dangerous monster we’ve dealt with so far.” He rests his hands on what’s left of his desk, and it strikes Penelope right then that she’s never seen him so beaten down before. Tired, yes. Exhausted, sure. But Professor Saltzman’s shoulders are so painfully tense that it seems like he’s near a breaking point of some kind.

He looks like all he wants right now is to give up.

All the humour inside her dies down at the terrifying thought, and her mind slots into serious mode. “All right, what do we need to know?”

“Actually, we still need to wait for – ,”

“Look, if this is about the Merge, dad, I swear I’ll – .” Penelope’s ears perk at the sound of Josie’s voice getting closer and their heads simultaneously turn to the door, where Josie has abruptly cut herself off in surprise.

Penelope instinctively meets her gaze, and something resembling guilt flits across Josie’s face before her eyes dart away, widening when she realizes who else are currently in the office with them.

“What’s going on?”

“Another monster. I think it’s here for the last key. Hence,” he gestures around, “the mess I walked into this morning.”

Josie blinks and gapes at the state of the room, her shock deepening when she registers the mess around them. “What the…? What the hell happened?”

Alaric leans on the large window pane behind him. “Whatever monster did this wasn’t operating on an instinctual drive. Somehow, it managed to sneak into the school sometime between last night and this morning without setting off any security alarms, and didn’t trip the boundary spell on the doorway to this office.”

“A boundary spell?” Lizzie asks.

“It’s meant to keep out any supernatural creatures that aren’t part of the ones we have here at the school. Dorian has it on his office, too, and the monster broke into it as well.” He shoots a pointed look at Penelope, who cringes. “I know a lot of students were up last night during the party, so the fact that no one seemed to have noticed it is…exceptionally worrying, to say the least. Not to mention the implication.”

Penelope cocks her head in confusion, but next to her, Hope breathes out a realization. “It’s still here, isn’t it? It’s still searching.”

Alaric gives her a short nod. “Dorian and I have to tighten security around the artifact, and it’s going to be hell figuring out how to repel a monster that can’t be kept out by magical barriers, especially if we don’t know what it even is. That’s where you four come in.” He starts explaining a detailed rundown of their task, but Penelope gradually tunes him out.

She’s much too aware of the way Josie is standing a few feet away, close enough to feel included in the conversation but leaving a noticeable space between her and the other three. Her fingers twitch, longing to close the distance. She imagines walking over to her, everyone else be damned, turning her wrist over and running her thumb across it, murmuring apologies into her skin. Behind the fragile bones of her ribcage, her heart flutters unevenly with a distinct emotion so profound that she doesn’t know how to put it into words except for _longing_ , an aching pull towards the girl standing only a few steps from her.

In the back of her mind, a word bubbles up from the depths of her memory. The Indonesian word _rindu_ . _It means_ , her father once told her, wide-eyed and perched on his lap, in whispers and hushed voices, between the wisps of the night coating the both of them, brave souls whom sleep could not conquer, _when you miss something so much you’d rather stay asleep than be awake in a world where it does not exist._

He had been talking about his home, she knows, of the country he was forced to flee from when religious masses took to the streets to purge supernatural creatures from their homes. And it’s not the same, really, because Penelope had never known loss that cut that deep, but she can’t help think of Josie whenever she replays that conversation with her dad.

Her attention snaps back when Lizzie narrows her eyes and asks, “Where did you even hide the thing? God, please tell me it’s not in the girls’ bathroom. I had to jinx, like, three jocks for peeping last week. That place attracts monsters, I tell you.”

“The girls’ – of course not. I have it under lock and key somewhere safe.”

There’s a pause, and Alaric furrows his brows. “What?”

“Well, where? If you’re gonna ask us to help you, at least have the decency to tell us. A little trust goes a long way,” Penelope affirms. Then quickly adds, “sir.” Because she’s still a student liable to get detention, after all.

Alaric looks even less convinced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“She’s right,” Josie pipes up, and the rest of them startle slightly. “Keeping secrets never goes well. I thought we’ve all learned that by now.” Her tone is light, undercut by something a little sharper. Penelope flushes from the barb.

Alaric, too, looks embarrassed, and he eventually crumbles under their expectant stares. “Fine. Fine, you’re right. If this really is the last monster, then we’re going to have to work as quickly as possible before it gets the chance to wreak more havoc here. I don’t want the risk of any students getting hurt. But just – keep the questions for later, okay? Until all of this is finished.”

He takes a deep breath, then continues, the reluctance thick in the way he draws out his words.  
“There’s a…secret passageway underneath the school, built in case of an emergency.” He holds up a hand to silence the burst of questions. “I’ll explain later. The point is, there’s an underground path that leads from here to the outer grounds past the gates, and Dorian and I decided to stash the artifact there for safekeeping. But if we have a monster who can infiltrate places without being seen and bypass security spells…,”

“Then it’s probably not that safe at all,” Hope finishes for him.

“We don’t want to raise panic among the students, so I need you to figure out what this could be as quickly and quietly as possible while I tighten up some enchantments. Can you do that?”

Penelope gives him a little salute. “At your service.”

Alaric sighs and pours himself another glass.

*****

“So I was thinking,” Hope claps her hands once they’re outside, “since it’s the weekend and everybody’s probably out frolicking in the courtyard or walking around town right now, we should just go and get a head start in the library, right? Prep like it’s an assignment.”

“Or we could just split up and jinx anything suspicious that moves,” Lizzie suggests, then shrugs when Hope glares at her. “What?”

“I’m with Hope,” Penelope adds quickly, glancing at Josie, who’s leaning against the wall and looking pointedly at everywhere else but them. “Um, the last time we split up things didn’t really go well. Strength in numbers, right?”

Lizzie, bless her, seems to get the hint and trails after them obediently, only muttering out a, “most boring monster hunt ever,” under her breath. Penelope sees the concern in her eyes when Josie silently turns around and walks ahead of them, though, and some of the pressure on her shoulders dissipate.

Just a little. Not enough to allow her to breathe just yet. But it’s enough knowing that there are people on her side, working towards the same goal as hers.

She just wants Josie to know how much people care about her. Wants to yell it from the rooftops until every single person in Mystic Falls, because the three of them would move mountains for her but all they’ve done so far is validate Josie’s insecurities of people not considering her as important enough to warrant knowing a huge secret about her own life.

Fuck. This is a shitstorm of mistakes.

“Okay, so I’m thinking we should all tackle different sections and comb through every single supernatural variation until we hit a match, reconvene in an hour or two to compare results,” Hope instructs. “What do you think?”

Penelope shrugs, eyeing the rows and rows of books waiting in their shelves. “Fine with me.”

“Hold on, wouldn’t it be more effective if we pair up? Like, um, we can work together and it would be faster that way. Right?” Lizzie bites her lip, and Penelope tries not to roll her eyes at her blatant eagerness.

“Good idea. Uh, we can take the Eastern European section, if you want,” Hope offers, the tips of her ears pink. Then, when Penelope clears her throat after a few seconds, her tone turns cautious. “What about you guys?”

Josie answers immediately. “I’ll take the Oriental section. Two hours, most possible matches. Got it.” She walks away before anyone can say anything, as if she was dying to get away from them as fast as possible.

Penelope hesitates. Should she follow Josie, or respect her wishes and stay away? Josie promised they would talk when she’s ready, but prolonging it feels like standing next to a first aid kit and letting a wound fester because she’s not brave enough to open the box.

“Dude, talk to her,” Hope whispers loudly, waving her arms around in Josie’s direction. “Seriously, what are you doing?”

“Uh, trying to find a monster?” Penelope hisses back. “We’re on a clock, remember?”

Lizzie shoves her in the same direction. “Go fix my sister’s heart, Park.”

“You two are bullies.”

She goes anyway, her fingers twisting nervously. Josie doesn’t turn around, keeps pulling books off the shelf and piling them up on her left arm, but acknowledges Penelope’s cough with a side glance.

“So, um,” Penelope starts, pausing a few feet away, “I know you said that you don’t want to talk, or like, not yet, anyway, and I completely respect that. You know, boundaries and everything. And if you want me to walk away right now, I will. Just say the word and I won’t come anywhere near you until you’re ready. But right now, I just…,” she trails off, unsure of how to continue.

Josie raises an eyebrow. She’s not telling Penelope to fuck off, which is a good sign. She hopes.

“Anyway, I’m sorry about not telling you. I really am. It didn’t start out as a lie, and I know that this probably sounds like a shitty excuse but it’s true. I found out about the Merge as an accident and - and even though I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about whether it was real or not, I didn’t want to take the risk. So I…broke up with you, because I thought that it was what I had to do.” She takes a step closer, but then decides against it, shifting her feet in place. Josie’s lack of reaction is starting to make her nervous.

“After we kissed on your birthday, it made me realize that I didn’t want to give us up for a stupid curse that may or may not be only a story, since I’ve never heard about it before, especially from you. I turned to Hope for help, and then Lizzie accidentally found out, and we agreed to keep it a secret until after New Orleans, just to be sure of everything before telling you.”

Another deep breath. “I made the decision not to tell you because I guess I - I wanted to protect you, which sounds incredibly stupid right now, I know. But it was never about not believing in you, never about thinking you weren’t good enough. I _need_ you to know that. I got so caught up in what I read that I made the worst decision of my life, and by the time I realized that, it was too late to explain. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you about the Merge because I figured that your parents should be the one to do it. It was their secret, and I fucked up all our lives because I just…I just couldn’t mind my own business. I’m _sorry_.”

Josie finally turns to look at her, sad and accepting but also with a glimmer of what Penelope hopes to be understanding.

“Look, if you want me to fuck off, I’ll do it. Right now, no questions, and I’ll wait for you. But I can’t stand going another minute without you knowing the whole truth. When Lizzie found out, she was in denial. That’s why we decided to go to New Orleans, to hear it for ourselves. But I know you process things differently. That’s why I want you to hear this. From me.”

She’s finished now. Anything, everything that comes after this is up to Josie.

Which is why when Josie opens her mouth to talk, Penelope’s knuckles turn white in clenched fists behind her back and her heart races in anticipation. She hopes to god Josie doesn’t actually tell her to fuck off.

“I’m not mad.” Josie’s voice is small and earnest, and Penelope’s shoulders drop in relief. “It was shitty that the three of you lied to me. Even shittier when I realized that our day together in New Orleans was just to distract me. But I guess Peter Parker never told Aunt May not because he didn’t love her, but because he didn’t want her to have to shoulder the burden of knowing.”

Penelope groans, and just like that, the tension breaks. The corners of Josie’s lips lift as Penelope waves her hand in fake disgust.

“God, I _knew_ MG would’ve said something nerdy.”

“Yeah, he kept making superhero references until I was about to hightail it out of there,” she giggles, and Penelope’s heart _bursts_.

She grabs Josie’s wrist out of a sudden surge of affection, but then Josie’s smile falls and she quickly pulls away from Penelope’s grip and –  oh.

Penelope’s heart sinks to the bottom of her shoes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – ,”

“No, no, it’s not, um,” Josie flushes awkwardly, fiddling with the books she’s holding. “I’m not mad, really. I just, I still need some time. My life just got flipped upside down, and I just found out that my family and my best friends have been lying to me for months, years. And it probably would’ve continued longer if you guys weren’t forced to confess.” Which is, yeah, that’s fair. “I’ve been thinking. I think there was some truth to what I said the night we got back.”

“Josie, you’re not weak, okay? You’ve got to stop believing that,” Penelope says fiercely, the words harsh and choppy.

“It’s not…,” Josie sighs, pushing her hair behind her ear. “It’s not untrue, either. These past two days made me realize that I don’t really know how to function on my own. All my life, there’s always been someone around who I can throw myself at.” She winces. “That came out weird, but…I think you get it.” Penelope refrains from cracking a joke. They don’t seem quite there yet. “I think what hurt most was that it was all three of you. If it were just you, or Hope, or Lizzie, and the rest didn’t know, it would’ve stung less, because then I could’ve convinced myself that I wasn’t the only one made a fool. That I wasn’t the only one who didn’t deserve to know.”

Penelope bows her head. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Then, something soft and tentative touches her arm, and she looks up to see Josie holding out her hand. “I just need time to find myself. I need to know who I am without other people, and what I’m able to do when it’s just me and no one else.” Her face contorts funnily again. “Ugh, I’m bad with words.”

“No, no, I get it.” Penelope offers her a soft smile, and it feels like she can finally breathe. _This_ is what she set out to do when she broke up with Josie all those months ago. To make Josie realize her own worth and how _strong_ she is by herself. It took a hell of a lot to get there, but they’re here and Josie’s not mad and they’re stronger together and that’s what matters.

“And hey, I’ve also been thinking about something. Remember New Orleans? The tarot reader?” Josie’s smile shifts into a knowing grin. “All that bullcrap about transitions and big changes and being reborn? I think she may have made a point.”

Penelope follows her lead, cranks up her teasing and says, “Uh huh. I distinctly remember you saying you weren’t into that sort of thing. Are you a believer of the abstract magics now?”

Josie shoves her lightly. “That’s not even a word, dingus.”

“God, you’re a nerd.” They both hear the fondness seeping into her words, and Josie ducks her head and smiles. Penelope takes that as her cue. They _are_ here on a mission, after all. “Um, I’m gonna go search the Ancient Civilizations section. But, after this is all over, I mean, if you ever want to talk again…,”

“I know where to find you.”

They share a smile, and Penelope knows they’re going to be okay.

She walks away and everything feels lighter. Everything feels _better_. She didn’t even realize how miserable she was when she thought Josie was done with her for real, and now that they’ve had the conversation they needed, there’s nowhere to go but up. The way she’s grinning is exorbitant and borderline pathetic and there are eight students looking bewilderedly in her way and she doesn’t care. Even keeps her mouth shut when she spots Isabel standing by the window, staring at her with a blank sort of curiosity.

Malivore. Right. The monster that has the capability to consume supernaturals and end life as they know it. She has her head in the game, no doubt about it. Professor Saltzman is depending on them. She’s 100%, unreservedly focused on finding this monster.

(But still, she can’t suppress a smile when she thinks about Josie’s grin earlier.)

Her smile fades when she remembers where exactly the Ancient Civilizations section is. The back corner of the library hidden by two large bookshelves crossing from one side where no one ever goes because it’s musty and barely lit and the books look old enough to fall apart at a touch and no one wants to get detention for breathing into one and having it turn to dust.

Penelope wrinkles her nose at the thick, stuffy air and shakes off the sudden worry about asbestos on the walls, lets her finger slide across leathery spines until she finds books on mythology and piles them up on a deserted table. Immediately, dust starts wafting everywhere and her eyes water up as they blink in irritation.

“Fun times,” she mutters under her breath, suddenly appreciative of the lack of human presence, because she’d rather die before anyone can accuse Penelope Park of being petulant.

She starts going through the books and records but it’s proving to be more difficult than expected. Most of them are handwritten in old-style cursive that has her squinting in confusion (curse whoever thought writing fancy was more practical than writing normally) and some of them are in Latin which gives her a headache, because her A+ in Latin class is nowhere near enough to get past simple sentences and verb conjugations. Penelope has half a mind of joining the others and asking them for help, but one thought about Hope and Lizzie having the time of their lives working as a team and she decides that she’s not in a mood to have her pride stomped today. No, sir.

It takes her over an hour to comb through texts about Aztec and Mayan and Indian and Ancient Greek and Roman mythologies and by the time she’s finished reading about wendigos, Penelope is in the brink of pulling all her hair out of frustration. Names of gods and deities and spirits and creatures are all mixing up in her head and the second she sees an entry for someone named Huēhuecoyōtl, she raises the mental equivalent of a white flag.

“Break time,” she announces to no one.

Penelope starts putting back books that serve no relevance back to their positions on the shelves, and just as she’s about to return the last two, someone grabs her shoulder and spins her around and she almost yells out a spell in surprise when she sees who it is.

“Jesus, you scared me. What are you – ,”

Her words trail off when Josie strides so close that there’s barely an inch of space between them, her eyes dark and hooded and distinctly not the Josie Penelope knows. She takes a step backwards instinctively, but Josie just follows her and soon, there’s a sharp gasp when Penelope’s back hits the bookshelf.

Josie just…watches her with that same dark expression, eyes roaming Penelope’s face until they rest almost imperceptibly on her lips.

Penelope scrambles for something to say, a joke or witty comment to point out the position they’re in, but her brain turns up blank. She blinks once, twice, three times. “Uhh, I guess you changed your mind?”

“Shut up.”

She chokes. The heat that shoots straight down her body at the command is embarrassing, and it takes an impressive amount of willpower to recover as quickly as she does when she manages to stammer out, “is this about what I said earlier? I meant it when I said you could take your time, you know, so um – ,”

Josie surges forward and cuts her off. Their mouths clash awkwardly at first, but then Penelope shifts in surprise and Josie’s lips slot perfectly into hers and they’re –

The book she’s holding falls to the floor and distantly, Penelope is aware that she probably shouldn’t be dropping hundred-year-old volumes like dirty laundry. Her hands rise to clutch the lapels of Josie’s uniform and she manages to push the other girl away for a second, panting as soon as they break apart.

She feels Josie’s hand behind her neck and the scratchy material of her school blazer and one of Josie’s legs pressed between her own, and it’s a miracle she doesn’t combust into a million flakes of dust right then and there.

“What is this?” Josie’s face is so close that Penelope can feel the heat of her own breath, can feel the way their bodies curve together. She has so many questions and can’t remember any of them, not with the way Josie is smirking at her, trailing a finger down Penelope’s neck and snapping the top button of her shirt.

The question goes unanswered. Josie’s left hand is still on the back of her neck and her right is inching downwards, ghosting past the curve of Penelope’s bra and her stomach and resting on the band of her skirt.

“Wait, wait.” Penelope grabs the other girl’s wrist in a rush, even though her body groans at the lack of contact. “Don’t you think we should talk first? Before all this?”

Josie bites her lip, tilts her head and pretends to consider the question. “Nah.”

Then her hand slips down and Penelope _moans_. Josie silences it with another sloppy kiss, pressing so strongly that it borders on pain. The shelf digs into Penelope’s spine, and when she knocks her head back the whole thing shudders with her.

Josie works on her neck, licking and nibbling one spot until there’s no doubt that a bruise is starting to form. Their hips snap together, Josie’s arm between them working at a slow, powerful pace and Penelope shudders when she feels another finger slipping inside.

“This isn’t like you,” she breathes into Josie’s hair. Josie bites her in response, clamps Penelope’s shoulder in place when she jerks from the pain. “Fuck, Josie.”

The sound reverberating from them is _obscene_ . Penelope’s breathy moans and the wet sounds coming from under her skirt and the steady thumps of the bookshelf rocking against the wall and the fact that someone, _anyone_ could walk by them at any moment and see her pinned by Josie sends a bolt of fire straight down to where Josie’s three fingers are pumping inside her, and Penelope feels the tell-tale build of pressure working low in her stomach.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , Josie – ,”

Josie curls her fingers and Penelope comes, her body shuddering with waves of pleasure and she has to support herself on Josie’s leg because her knees are _that_ weak. The power of a mindblowing orgasm.

Josie waits until she manages to stand up on her own before pulling her fingers out, Penelope groaning at the sudden emptiness.

“So, um,” Penelope says when she feels coherent enough to string together a sentence. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, you usually never take the lead so I’m kind of pleasantly surprised, but was it anything I said before that made you change your mind?” She pushes her sweaty hair away and grins, but Josie’s face is blank as she wipes her fingers on her skirt.

“Now that’s over, we can talk about what you’re here for,” Josie says, business-like. “The key. Where is it?”

Her mind is apparently still way too hazy from the high, so all Penelope lets out is a dumb, “huh?”

“The Malivore key. The artifact,” Josie says impatiently. Her eyes are devoid of emotion, nothing like the person Penelope was talking to just an hour before, and something about her just feels…off.

Penelope answers her slowly and tries not to let the rising sense of dread show. “I thought – wait, what? You know where it is. Your dad told us, like, an hour ago. We were all there.”

Josie looks like she’s struggling not to roll her eyes. “Care to remind me?”

“Look, do you maybe want to, um, talk? I don’t really get this hot and cold thing you’re doing but, like, Emma’s always telling us that communication is key, right?” Penelope bites her lip nervously. Something’s at the edge of her mind but she can’t reach far enough to see what it is, and the stickiness between her thighs is not helping one bit.

“Just tell me where it is,” Josie snaps.

“It’s below your dad’s office. Jeez, did you get hit in the head or something?” Penelope says, her voice tight with impatience mixed with confusion. “Seriously, stop messing around.”

Just like that, Josie relaxes. She shoots Penelope a lazy, satisfactory smile, and doubt curdles even more in her stomach. “Thanks.”

Then Josie says something in an unfamiliar language, something sharp and serpentine, and Penelope’s vision goes black.

 

* * *

 

A harsh slap wakes her up, and even before Penelope opens her eyes, she already has no doubt that it was Lizzie.

She groans and blinks her eyes open and fuck, her head hurts. Hope, Lizzie, and Josie are crouching around her, sporting equal expressions of worry and concern. Hope’s eyebrows shoot up when Penelope starts coughing.

“Jesus, dude. Are you okay?” she says anxiously, hands fluttering around Penelope but not touching. Penelope nods, and the act makes her wince.

Lizzie is less bothered about disturbing her. She smacks Penelope on the shoulder and yells, “you scared us, idiot. What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know, once second I was fine and then,” her eyes shift to Josie and she scrambles up, using the bookshelf for support, “you knocked me out!” Penelope accuses.

Josie’s jaw drops open. “What?”

“I was talking to you and you said something and I passed out. It must’ve been, I dunno, a spell or something, I’ve never heard it before and it didn’t even sound like a regular spell but the point is I was talking to you and then you knocked me out. What the hell was that?” Penelope demands, nursing the bruise behind her head.

Josie’s eyes grow impossibly larger and she frowns in confusion. “What are you talking about?

Penelope’s hand falters. Her heart starts stuttering at an irregular rate and the sour feeling returns in her stomach. “How long was I out?” she asks slowly.

“We met up fifteen minutes ago and when you didn’t show up, Josie said you were in the Ancient Civilizations section so we came here to find you. And, well, we did find you,” Lizzie narrows her eyes. “Did you, like, pass out from exhaustion? Did you read yourself to death?”

Penelope doesn’t answer her. The book she was reading is still sitting open on the table, the top page showing the entry about Huēhuecoyōtl, the Aztec trickster god, whose powers included immortality, superhuman strength, reality warping and…

It hits her. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

Things start adding up in rapid speed. Thinking she saw Hope in the party when the real Hope never went. The way Isabel just stared at her and stayed silent before, when the real Isabel would’ve marched up to Penelope and started screaming the second she saw her. The uncharacteristic display of confidence from Josie. A creature who can pass through the school without raising any red flags, who can ask around without suspicion…

Penelope groans. “It’s a fucking shapeshifter.”

The others stare at her, stunned.

Then something else hits her. “Holy shit, I just let one of Malivore’s monsters top me in the back section of the library.”

“What?” Josie sputters.

It hits her for the third time, and the charm causes Penelope to jump up and sprint out of there. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“Slow down. Where are you going?” Hope yells, gasping for breath as they follow her out of the library.

“I think I just told the monster where the artifact is.”

No one says anything after that, and they hightail it past the common area, galloping through the staircase and causing a teacher to yell, “no running!” at them that falls on deaf ears. Penelope skids around the corner of the hallway that leads to the headmaster’s office, and the others bump into her when she stops in her tracks at the sight of Professor Saltzman bent over and panting, wiping sweat from his brow, while an exact copy of him lies on the floor, a purpling bruise around its eye.

“Can anyone tell me,” he wheezes, “why I came to my office and found Josie trying to break in, and when I tried to ask her what she was doing, she turned into me and tried to kick my head in?”

“It’s the monster,” Penelope says dumbly.

“Oh.”

The five of them stare at the monster for a minute, not expecting to have caught it that fast, and Penelope’s about to ask what they should do with it when Lizzie makes a sound.

“What did you mean when you said you let a Malivore monster top you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so being the lulu enthusiast that i am, i was absolutely FLOORED when i learned that she's half indonesian because i've NEVER seen a part-indonesian mainstream american actor before (her last name kind of gave it away, antariksa means 'outer space' in bahasa indonesia if you didn't know, which was what tipped me of in the first place), so then i HAD to headcanon penelope as indonesian too, which is why i added that bit about the word and her dad's history is based on something real that happened. it's called the may 1998 riots and was the peak of a bunch of violent movements trying to kick chinese-indonesians out of the country. i'm part of that minority and that event impacted my family a lot back then, and my uncle actually had to leave indonesia to plead asylum in the US, like penelope's dad did. yeah you weren't here for a history lesson i'm sorry but i will never! shut! up! about penelope being half-indonesian because gimme that representation.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me @ queersupergirls on tumblr, too


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